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CAMP-FIRES 
OF    A    NATURALIST 


THE  STORY  OF  FOURTEEN  EXPEDITIONS  AFTER  NORTH 

AMERICAN   MAMMALS,  FROM   THE   FIELD  NOTES  OF 

LEWIS  LINDSAY  DYCHE,  A.  M.,  M.  S.,  PROFESSOR 

OF   ZOOLOGY  AND    CURATOR   OF   BIRDS 

AND  MAMMALS  IN  THE   KANSAS 

STATE   UNIVERSITY 


BY 

CLARENCE   E.   EDWORDS 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK 

D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1893 


t  A- 


Copyright,  1893, 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


.b.      ,./ 


WITH  A  DEEP   SENSE  OF  GRATITUDE 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED 

TO  A 

TRUE  FRIEND,  A  CAREFUL.  CRITIC,  AND  A  WISE   COUNSELLOR, 

CHARLES   S.  GLEED, 

WHO,  BY  WORD  AND  DEED,  HAS  HELPED  THE  WRITER  OVER  THE 

ROUGH  PLACES  AND  MADE  SMOOTH  HIS  PATHWAY 

IN  PLACING  THIS  BOOK  BEFORE  THE  PUBLIC. 


252498 


PEEFACE. 


UNTING-STORIES  without  exciting  ad- 
ventures and  hairbreadth    escapes  find 
little  favour  with  the  general  public,  but 
those  who  have  spent  pleasant  hours  in 
the  woods  know  that  such  adventures  are  of  rare 
occurrence. 

This  book  deals  solely  with  facts.  The  adventures 
of  Professor  Dyche  while  collecting  specimens  of  the 
larger  mammals  of  North  America  are  not  of  a  thrill- 
ing kind,  but  they  give  the  life  in  the  woods  as  it 
really  is.  My  story  is  taken  from  the  note-books  and 
diaries  of  the  professor,  and  not  one  word  has  been 
added  to  the  facts  which  he  has  noted,  to  make  the 
book  more  interesting  or  exciting. 

I  offer  simply  a  description  of  the  life  of  a  natu- 
ralist-hunter and  of  the  pleasures  of  camp  life,  with 
a  naturalist's  explanations  of  the  habits  of  animals. 

Clarence  E.  Edwords. 


COlSTTETsTTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE 

Nursed  by  a  Squaw— Boyhood  and  Early  Manhood— How 
an  Education  was  Obtained, 1 

CHAPTER   II. 
Old  Jim  Leatherman's  Load — The  Storm — Some  Experi- 
ences with  Snakes — About  Antelope — Useless  Tails  and 
Queer  Horns — Fight  with  a  Rattlesnake — How  Dyche 
Scared  the  Tramps  out  of  Camp, 5 

CHAPTER   III. 

In  New  Mexico — Encounter  with  a  Bear — Cold  Hospital- 
ity— The  Retired  Boston  Merchant  and  his  Mountain 
Ranch — An  Able  Missouri  Liar — The  Mule  that  was 
not  a  Mule — Seven  Deer  with  Seven  Shots,  .         .     21 

CHAPTER   IV. 

In  New  Mexico — Hunting  Bear — Once  More  at  Harvey's — 
The  Same  Luck — Camp  Bear  Trail — The  Last  Pot-Shot 
— A  Long  Chase — In  Ambush — Too  Much  of  a  Good    • 
Thing — A  Monarch  Dethroned — What  was  Done  with 
the  Royal  Hide, 39 

CHAPTER  V. 

Making  a  New  Trail— The  Storm  on  the  Mountain -Top — 
Neither  Bear  nor  Elk — A  Journey  in  Utter  Darkness — 
Catching  Foxes — Unwelcome  Visitors — Brown's  Ava- 
lanche— The  Bear  was  Handicapped — An  Experience 

with  Ants  and  Fleas, 57 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

PAGE 

A  Peculiar  Wedding- Journey — Field  Taxidermy — A  Typ- 
ical Mountaineer — Big  Bear  Talk — The  Cabin  was 
Looted — A  Lost  Timepiece — A  Great  Day  for  Talking,     76 

CHAPTER  VII. 
In  Indian  Territory — A  Frontier  Fiddler — Life  in  a  Dug- 
out— Wild  Turkeys,  Wildcats,  and  other  Wild  Things 
— Surviving  a  Blizzard — An  Indian  Dance — An  Em- 
barrassed Professor — Successful  Hunting — The  Ex- 
tinction of  the  Wild  Turkey, 97 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
In  the  Cascades — Extermination  of  Many  Species  of  Ani- 
mals—  Something  about  the  Rocky  Mountain  Goat — 
An    Arduous    Journey  —  The    Cascades    Reached — 
Wholesale  Hunters — In  Camp — A  Failure,  .         .118 

CHAPTER    IX. 
The  First  Big-Hom — How  his  Skin  and  Bones  were  Pre- 
pared— Habits  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Sheep,      .        .  134 

CHAPTER   X. 
End  of  Sheep-Hunting — How  the  Sentinel  Fell  at  his  Post 
— A  Peculiar  Wound — Finding    the  Noon  Hour  by 
Stars — How  the  Collection  of  Sheep  was  Completed,  .  147 

CHAPTER  XL 
On  Kettle  River — Okonagan  Smith  and  his  Lonely  Ranch 
— The  Great  Northern  Boundary — Trials  and  Tribula- 
tions— "  Fool  Hens  " — Through  Fallen  Trees — An  Ar- 
duous Journey,      162 

CHAPTER   XII. 
In  the  Cascades— A  Forest  Fire— After  Rocky  Mountain 
Goats— The  First  Shot— Down  the  Mountain— A  Suc- 
cessful Hunter — A  Night  of  Hardships — A  Naturalist's 
Labours, 174 


CONTENTS.  ix 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

PAGE 

A  Peculiar  Danger — Four  Goats  in  Four  Shots — A  Rapidly- 
Disappearing  Tribe — Description  and  Habits — A  Per- 
sistent Hunter, 190 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
On  Kettle  River— Two  Model  Camp  Companions— A  Royal 
Deer — Eating  Beaver  Tails — A  Tramp  over  the  Moun- 
tains— Wolves  about  the  Cabin — Varieties  of  Deer,  .  204 

CHAPTER   XV. 
At  the  Lake  of  the  Woods — After  Moose — A  Plague  of  Mos- 
quitoes— Dark  Swamps  and  Deep  Rivers — Compensa- 
tions,       224 

CHAPTER   XVI. 
In  the  Swamps— Habits  of  the  Moose— The  Moose -Call— On 
the  River — Good  Shooting  Secures  a  Group — The  King 
of  Game  Animals— The  Naturalist  nearly  Killed,        .  236 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
With  the  Indians — How  Indians  Hunt  Big   Game — The 
Parallel  Trails — Indian  Superstitions — A  Potent  Bev- 
erage— Moose  all  "Nickoshin" — Return  to  Civilisa- 
tion,        257 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
In  Colorado— On  the  Trail  of  Elk— A  Night  in  the  Snow- 
Deer,  but  no  Elk — Another  Wild- Goose  Chase — The 
World's  Fair  King— The  Last  Hunt,   .        .        .        .276 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
Results  of  the  Camp -Fires— The  Specimens  Obtained,      .  300 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTKATIOIS^S. 


FACING 
PAGE 

The  Rocky  Mountain  goat        ....       Frontispiece 

A  comer  of  the  storeroom 1 

A  family  group 5 

A  mule  deer  buck 21 

As  he  appeared  in  the  opening 39 

"  They  are  sure  good  bear  knives  " 57 

A  group  of  Virginia  deer 97 

On  guard 118 

Almost  despairing 190 

Off  for  a  long  tramp 204 

Ready  to  go  home 213 

The  monarch  of  the  woods 224 

A  mountain  king 276 


CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 


CHAPTER   I. 


Nurse  d  by  a  Squaw — Boyhood  and  Early  Manhood — How  an 
Education  was  Obtained. 

|NE  raw  March  evening,  in  the  early  days 
of  Kansas,  a  covered  wagon  drawn  by 
oxen  stopped  on  the  bank  of  the  Wauka- 
russa  River.  In  the  wagon  lay  a  babe 
close  to  the  side  of  its  mother,  whose  illness  was  so 
severe  that  but  little  attention  could  be  paid  to  the 
child.  The  sturdy  pioneer,  who  had  left  his  Eastern 
home  to  make  a  new  one  in  the  West,  cheered  his 
wife  with  a  word  and  placed  the  child  on  a  bed  of 
grass  before  a  bright  fire.  Near  the  spot  selected  for 
the  camp  was  the  winter  village  of  a  band  of  Indians, 
and  the  fire  had  been  hardly  started  when  a  number  of 
the  red  men  gathered  around  the  wagon.  The  con- 
dition of  the  sick  mother  appealed  to  the  womanly  in- 
stincts of  the  squaws,  and  tender  hands  ministered  to 
her  wants.  The  infant  was  taken  from  its  improvised 
bed,  and  soon  was  drawing  a  new  life  from  a  red 
breast.  For  weeks  the  mother  hovered  between  life 
and  death,  and  all  the  while  the  babe  was  cared  for  in 
the  village  of  the  Indians.  He  thrived,  and  when  the 
1 


2  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

mother  was  restored  to  health  the  baby  boy  was  strong 
and  lusty. 

This  babe  was  Lewis  Lindsay  Dyche  and  his  life 
almost  began  at  a  camp-fire.  With  the  precocity 
often  seen  in  pioneer  life  he  seemed  to  pass  from  in- 
fancy to  manhood  with  no  intervening  period  of  boy- 
ishness or  youth.  All  the  pleasures  of  his  tender 
years  were  combined  with  business.  At  the  age  of 
nine  he  was  hunting  and  trapping  along  the  banks 
of  the  Waukarussa.  His  playmates  were  his  dogs ; 
his  playthings  were  the  beasts  and  birds ;  his  play- 
grounds were  the  woods  and  prairies  and  the  camps 
of  the  Indians.  His  hard  lot  and  that  of  his  father 
and  mother  taught  him  the  value  of  money.  Work 
was  as  natural  to  him  as  play  to  ordinary  boys. 
For  a  five-cent  piece  he  would  follow  the  horses  of 
the  sorghum  mill  all  day  long,  and  this  money  would 
be  hoarded  with  that  received  for  the  furs  obtained 
during  the  winter's  trapping  and  hunting. 

All  this  time  the  alphabet  was  a  mystery  to 
him,  and  while  he  was  in  demand  among  the 
neighbors  as  a  worker,  he  realized  that  to  succeed  in 
life,  even  among  frontiersmen,  it  was  necessary  for 
him  to  have  other  learning  than  that  obtained  in 
the  woods.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  was  tall  and 
well  formed,  with  the  habits  and  appearance  of  a 
man.  He  had  learned  the  rudiments  of  reading  at 
the  age  of  twelve,  but  shame  prevented  the  tall,  raw- 
boned  boy  from  showing  his  ignorance  in  the  village 
school,  and  he  advanced  slowly  in  his  learning.  At 
the  age  of  sixteen  he  found  that  his  hoarded  money 
had  accumulated  until  he  was  the  possessor  of  $600. 


OBTAINING  AN  EDUCATION.  8 

With  this  he  determined  to  obtain  an  education,  and 
for  three  years  he  studied  at  the  State  Normal  School 
at  Emporia,  Kansas,  preparing  his  mind  to  receive 
that  higher  education  which  was  gradually  opened  to 
him.  In  order  to  husband  his  means,  he  rented  a 
small  room  and  did  his  own  cooking  during  the  three 
years.  Mrs.  A.  P.  Morse,  an  instructress  in  the 
school,  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  young  man,  and 
gave  him  many  valuable  suggestions  regarding  his 
mode  of  study,  which  helped  him  over  the  rough  path- 
ways until  he  was  able  to  travel  them  alone. 

In  addition  to  the  mild  persuasiveness  of  Mrs. 
Morse,  there  came  a  help  of  a  different  nature.  Dr. 
C.  R.  Pomeroy,  that  sturdy  and  resolute  president  of 
the  State  Normal  School  whose  strength  of  character 
has  impressed  so  many  minds  in  the  West,  saw  the 
ambition  of  the  diffident  young  backwoodsman,  and 
opened  to  his  mental  vision  such  vast  fields  of  re- 
search that  he  breathed  a  new  life  into  the  veins  of 
the  young  man. 

After  the  three  years  at  the  normal  school,  he,  with 
one  companion,  went  in  a  covered  wagon  to  Lawrence, 
where  the  Kansas  State  University  is  situated,  and 
there  they  camped  in  a  sheltered  vale  just  north  of 
the  university  buildings.  At  night  they  slept  in  their 
wagon,  and  their  meals  were  cooked  at  a  camp-fire. 
They  camped  here  until  the  cold  wreather  drove  them 
to  warmer  shelter,  and  then  they  rented  a  small  room 
in  the  city,  and  there  did  their  own  cooking  for  the 
remainder  of  the  year. 

While  the  work  at  the  normal  school  had  been  hard 
because  it  was  strange,   here  it  was  hard  because 


4  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

it  was  made  so  by  the  enthusiast.  Night  and  day  he 
pored  over  his  books,  only  leaving  them  when  dragged 
away  by  his  fellow-students,  who  saw  that  he  was 
breaking  himself  down  by  his  close  application.  But 
even  his  recreation  was  work.  He  wandered  over 
the  fields  and  along  the  river,  collecting  insects  for 
Professor  Snow,  and  became  so  expert  that  he  was 
afterward  regularly  employed  by  the  professor  to 
assist  him  in  making  his  collection.  From  this 
source  he  obtained  a  considerable  sum  of  money, 
which  went  toward  defraying  his  expenses. 

The  university  was  then  in  its  infancy,  and  Dyche 
saw  that  by  properly  combining  his  studies  he  could 
master  more  than  one  course  at  a  time,  and  to  this 
end  he  devoted  himself.  So  well  did  he  apply  his 
vigorous  mind  that  at  the  end  of  five  years  he  grad- 
uated at  the  head  of  his  class,  obtaining  two  degrees. 
Nor  did  he  stop  here,  for  when  he  was  preparing  for 
new  fields.  Professor  Snow  offered  him  the  position 
of  assistant  in  his  department.  Under  the  guidance 
of  the  professor  the  young  man  became  invaluable  to 
the  university,  and  the  chair  of  anatomy  and  physi- 
ology was  created  and  given  to  Dyche.  Later  on  the 
branches  of  zoology,  animal  histology,  the  curator- 
ship  of  birds  and  mammals,  and  the  practical  work 
of  taxidermy  were  placed  under  his  direction  and 
guidance,  with  a  corps  of  assistants. 

The  museum  of  the  university,  where  stands  the 
finest  collection  of  mounted  animals  in  the  world,  tells 
how  well  he  has  done  his  duty,  and  to  the  story  of 
the  incidents  and  adventures  of  the  young  man's  life 
while  in  search  of  these  mammals  the  pages  of  this 
book  are  devoted. 


,•  •       •    •• 
•  •      •   «,«  . 


CHAPTER  II. 

Old  Jim  Leatherman's  Load — The  Storm — Some  Experi- 
ences with  Snakes — About  Antelope — Useless  Tails  and 
Queer  Horns — Fight  with  a  Eattlesnake — How  Dyche 
Scaled  the  Tramps  out  of  Camp. 

>T  was  a  jolly  quartette  that  rode  in  old  Jim 
Leatherman's  wagon  over  the  prairies  of 
western  Kansas,  on  a  hot  July  after- 
noon, from  Buffalo,  a  little  shipping  sta- 
tion of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad.  A  casual  ob- 
server would  have  taken  the  party  for  a  lot  of  school- 
boys out  on  a  frolic,  and  he  would  not  have  been  far 
wrong.  The  two  older  boys  were  the  joUiest  of  all. 
The  younger  boys  were  not  quite  so  demonstrative, 
yet  they,  too,  were  full  of  animal  life  and  were  in- 
spired by  the  invigorating  air  of  the  plains. 

The  old  boys  called  each  other  Mudge  and  Snow, 
while  the  younger  ones  were  known  as  Dyche  and 
Dick.  At  home  Mudge  and  Snow  were  staid  college 
professors,  and  Dyche  and  Dick  were  students  in  the 
institution.  While  in  college  circles  decorum  was 
duly  observed,  here  on  the  prairies  all  four  called  each 
other  by  the  most  convenient  names,  and  while  they 
are  removed  from  the  college  atmosphere  these 
names  may  be  sufficient. 

Old  Jim  Leatherman  found  his  strange  load  in- 
comprehensible.    Mudge  would  suddenly   break  off 

5 


6  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

from  his  rhapsody  on  the  possible  skeleton  of  a 
plesiosaurus  that  he  expected  to  find,  jump  from  the 
wagon,  and  scurry  over  the  prairie  after  Snow.  Then 
both  would  return,  triumphant  over  the  capture  of 
some  inoffensive  insect  which  the  bright  eyes  of  the 
old  boys  had  detected  as  they  rode  along. 

The  day  thus  passed  was  short  to  the  travellers. 
Many  trophies  of  the  "  bug  hunters"  had  been  gathered 
when  the  wagon  halted  by  the  side  of  a  little  stream 
which  wound  across  the  barren  plain.  A  lone  cotton- 
wood  tree  stood  sentinel  on  the  bank  as  a  beacon 
to  the  party,  and  Leatherman  interrupted  a  scientific 
discussion  with  the  announcement : 

"Here's  the  place  and  there's  your  firewood," 
pointing  to  the  tree. 

The  tent  was  soon  pitched,  a  blazing  fire  started,  a 
pan  of  bacon  set  to  frying,  and  the  camp  life  of  the 
naturalists  was  begun  in  earnest.  Each  had  an  as- 
signed task.  One  got  wood,  one  cooked,  and  the 
others  arranged  the  tent  and  camp-ground.  The  sun- 
set presaged  foul  weather.  The  whole  horizon  was 
banked  with  clouds.  Snow  and  Dyche  took  up  their 
quarters  in  the  tent,  while  Mudge,  Dick,  and  Leather- 
man  spread  their  blankets  on  the  sand  at  the  foot  of 
the  sentinel  cotton  wood.  The  four  boys  sank  to 
slumber,  unmindful  of  the  chorus  of  coyotes  which 
visited  the  spot  to  serenade  the  guests  of  the  plains. 

Deep  sleep  wrapped  the  camp  in  silence  when  the 
promise  given  by  the  sky  at  sunset  was  fulfilled. 
The  sleepers  outside  were  aroused  by  the  advance 
guard  of  the  rain.  In  the  west  there  arose  a  solid 
wall  of  ebony.     Deeper  and  deeper  grew  the  black- 


THE  STORM.  7 

ness  which  crept  up,  blotting  out  the  sky.  In  the 
middle  was  a  surging,  rolling,  tumbling  mass,  from 
the  centre  of  which  flashes  of  lightning  shot  forth. 
The  air,  which  all  day  and  night  had  been  hot  almost 
to  suffocation,  grew  chill.  A  great  calm  filled  the 
whole  breadth  of  the  plain.  A  hush  was  on  earth 
and  sky. 

Then  the  appalling  silence  was  broken.  The  huge 
black  wave  was  cut  by  the  vivid  lightning,  and  the 
earth  seemed  shaken  by  the  terrible  battle  of  the  ele- 
ments. The  muttering  thunder  increased  in  tone  and 
volume  until  all  space  was  filled  with  the  sound. 
Bellowing,  roaring,  and  crashing  it  came  on,  the 
clouds  covering  the  sky  and  casting  a  mantle  of 
blackness  over  the  land  that  was  only  broken  by  the 
constant  flashing  of  the  lightning.  The  storm  burst 
upon  the  camp,  and  with  one  mighty  sweep  almost 
tore  the  tent  from  its  fastenings.  Snow  caught  one 
end  and  Dyche  the  other,  and  throwing  themselves 
flat  on  the  ground,  they  held  the  cloth  close  and 
prevented  the  wind  from  getting  under.  The  force 
of  the  wind  crushed  the  tent  to  the  earth,  broke 
the  poles,  and  threw  the  whole  party  flat.  Then 
the  very  flood-gates  of  heaven  seemed  to  be  opened, 
and  torrents  of  water  came  down.  The  tent  was  at 
the  foot  of  a  knoll,  and  down  this  the  water  swept, 
covering  everything  with  drift,  rubbish,  and  mud. 
Dry  ravines  became  torrents,  and  the  heavens  seemed 
to  send  down  rivers.  For  two  long  hours  the  storm 
raged,  and  then  the  turmoil  ceased. 

Cold  and  wet,  the  jolly  crowd  of  yesterday  lay 
almost  perishing  in  the  mud  which  flowed  through 
2 


8  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

the  crevices  under  the  tent.  Morning  dawned  at 
last,  and  one  by  one  the  members  of  the  party  crawled 
out.  Dyche  had  suffered  most,  for  he  had  lain 
all  night  at  the  door  of  the  tent  with  little  cover- 
ing, and  the  water  and  mud  had  poured  over  him, 
chilling  him  to  the  bone.  Never  before  had  he  felt 
cold  as  he  felt  it  then.  Barely  able  to  move,  he  got 
out  at  dawn,  started  a  fire,  and  finally  succeeded  in 
rubbing  sufficient  vitality  into  his  benumbed  limbs  to 
be  sure  once  more  that  life  was  pleasant. 

It  took  but  a  short  while  for  the  camp  equipment 
to  become  dry  in  the  sun,  and  by  noon  barely  a  sign 
of  the  storm  was  to  be  seen  on  the  surrounding 
prairie.  The  remainder  of  this  day  and  several  days 
thereafter  were  devoted  to  the  search  for  fossils. 
One  very  hot  morning  Snow  said  that  he  desired  cer- 
tain specimens  of  the  snake  kind,  and  wanted  the 
boys  to  devote  the  day  to  collecting  them . 

Gathered  around  the  camp-fire  that  night,  all  were 
ready  to  tell  of  their  adventures  and  show  the  tro- 
phies of  the  chase.  In  handling  a  specimen  of  rattler 
Snow  was  a  little  careless,  and  the  reptile  slipped  its 
head  from  his  hand,  fastening  its  fangs  in  his  finger. 
It  was  a  small  snake,  but  none  the  less  dangerous. 
A  ligature  was  tied  around  the  finger  and  the  poison 
sucked  from  the  wound.  After  the  excitement  was 
over  the  "  game"  was  displayed.  There  were  whip- 
snakes,  bull-snakes,  hog-nosed  snakes,  rattlesnakes, 
and  racers.  The  oddest  was  the  hog-nosed  snake. 
It  has  the  appearance  and  shape  of  the  rattler  with- 
out its  fangs.  Coiling  up,  it  throws  back  its  head 
and  opens  its  mouth  so  wide  that  its  jaws  are  dislo- 


SOME  EXPERIENCES  WITH  SNAKES.  9 

cated,  the  result  being  that  it  is  compelled  to  go 
around  with  the  mouth  wide  open  until  the  disloca- 
tion is  reduced.  If  it  bites  it  does  no  harm,  for  it  has 
neither  fangs  nor  poison-bags. 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  snake  sunstruck?"  Snow 
asked,  and  all  but  Mudge  thought  he  was  joking 
and  kept  a  discreet  silence. 

"  I  am  not  quizzing.  It  is  an  actual  fact  that 
snakes  cannot  stand  the  heat  of  the  sun  on  the  sand. 
Unless  they  get  shelter  during  the  middle  of  the  day 
they  will  die.  If  you  will  notice,  all  snakes  are  coiled 
up  at  noon  about  the  foot  of  a  bush  or  are  under 
rocks.  I  got  one  big  fellow  to-day,  a  whip-snake.  I 
had  him  in  my  net,  and  laid  him  on  the  ground  by 
my  side  while  I  rested.  In  fifteen  minutes  he  was 
dead.     He  was  sunstruck." 

The  campers  were  in  need  of  fresh  meat,  and  the 
conversation  gradually  drifted  to  hunting.  Antelope 
had  been  seen  every  day,  in  groups  of  from  five  to 
ten,  but  no  attempt  had  been  made  to  get  one,  as  all 
the  time  had  been  devoted  to  collecting  insects  and 
fossils.  The  only  fire-arm  in  the  camp  was  an  old 
carbine  belonging  to  Mudge,  and  it  was  apparently 
in  such  a  dilapidated  condition  that  no  one  cared  to 
risk  his  reputation  by  attempting  a  shot  with  it. 

"  Antelope  is  the  hardest  thing  on  earth  to  get  a 
shot  at,  young  feller,"  said  one  of  a  party  of  cowboys 
that  visited  the  camp,  "  and  you'll  find  that  they  can 
make  out  a  hunter  miles  away.  If  there's  only  one 
in  the  band,  he'll  always  keep  his  eyes  skinned  for 
something  to  get  scared  at." 

This  duly  impressed  the  boys  with  the  idea  that  an 


10  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

antelope  had  almost  supernatural  powers,  and  that  it 
would  be  an  extremely  difficult  feat  to  shoot  one,  es- 
pecially with  Mudge's  carbine.  Dyche,  however,  an- 
nounced his  intention  of  trying  to  get  one,  and  for  an 
hour  endured  the  gibes  and  jokes  of  the  whole  party. 
He  started  early  next  morning,  and  late  in  the  even- 
ing, just  as  old  Jim  was  beginning  to  prepare  supper, 
he  returned  carrying  a  fifty-pound  load  of  antelope  on 
bis  back  and  dragging  the  old  carbine  after  him. 
He  was  tired,  but  after  a  good  supper  of  antelope 
steak  was  able  to  tell  the  story  of  the  day's  adven- 
tures as  they  all  sat  around  the  camp-fire. 

"  I  tried  all  the  forenoon  to  crawl  near  enough  to  the 
antelope  to  get  a  shot  at  them,  but  they  always  saw 
me  long  enough  beforehand  to  run  a  mile  or  two  away 
by  the  time  I  started  to  crawl  to  them.  About  one 
o'clock,  a  band  of  seven  came  down  a  ravine  and 
went  behind  a  knoll  about  three  hundred  yards  from 
where  I  was  sitting.  My  shoes  were  off  in  an  instant 
and  I  made  a  rush  to  intercept  the  animals  as  they 
rounded  the  knoll.  I  made  a  good  race,  but  found 
that  the  jarring  of  my  feet  on  the  ground  had  alarmed 
the  antelope,  and  I  got  to  the  mouth  of  the  ravine 
just  in  time  to  see  the  seven  tawny-yellow  creatures 
racing  away  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  off. 
I  sent  two  bullets  after  them,  and  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  to  tell  it,  those  animals  were  going  over  the  top 
of  a  hill  fully  half  a  mile  away.  They  stopped  on 
the  top  of  the  hill  for  a  few  seconds,  looking  back  and 
evidently  wondering  what  it  was  that  was  following 
them.  My  blood  was  up  now,  and  I  determined  to 
follow  the  band.     I  travelled  two  miles,  and  then  saw 


ALL  ABOUT  ANTELOPE.  11 

that  it  would  be  as  profitable  to  follow  the  south 
wind. 

"  I  knew  what  would  be  my  portion  if  I  came  back 
to  camp  without  meat,  especially  since  my  feet  were 
full  of  cactus  thorns  and  had  been  cut  and  bruised 
by  the  long  tramp  over  the  sand  and  rocks.  I  limped 
painfully  back  to  where  I  had  left  my  shoes.  I  went 
stumbling  along,  jumping  now  and  then  at  the  sound 
of  a  grasshopper,  which  suggested  the  wicked  whir  of 
a  rattler's  tail.  As  I  climbed  over  a  knoll  I  saw  an  old 
buck  antelope  standing  near  a  dozen  or  more  which 
were  lying  sunning  themselves.  The  band  was  on 
the  top  of  a  hill,  and  the  old  fellow  who  was  on  guard 
was  standing  where  he  could  see  the  whole  country 
in  every  direction.  I  got  within  half  a  mile  of  the 
antelope  without  being  seen.  Two  or  three  members 
of  the  band  appeared  to  have  their  heads  in  the  air 
all  the  time.  They  were  evidently  guards,  and  the 
safety  of  the  band  depended  on  their  vigilance. 

"  Having  had  no  experience  as  an  antelope  hunter,  I 
was  puzzled.  I  did  not  know  how  to  get  near  them. 
Concluding  that  they  were  no  harder  to  kill  than  the 
animals  I  had  hunted  since  boyhood,  I  began  a  care- 
ful stalk.  Crawling  about  four  hundred  yards  up  a 
ravine,  I  reached  a  spot  within  five  hundred  yards  of 
the  animals,  unobserved.  Now  there  was  no  ravine 
in  which  to  crawl,  so  I  chose  the  best  ground  I  could 
find  and  began  a  snake-like  movement  up  the  slope. 
I  accepted  anything  for  cover,  ant-hills,  bunches  of 
grass,  cactus  bushes,  or  even  little  ridges  in  the  sand 
made  by  the  wind.  In  this  way  I  made  two  hun- 
dred yards  in  two  hours,  and  had  not  been  seen. 


12  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

"  Sometimes  the  antelope  woiild  come  in  such  plain 
sight  that  I  was  compelled  to  lie  close  to  the  ground 
while  they  were  looking  my  way.  I  got  ahead  at 
the  rate  of  about  a  foot  a  minute  until  I  was  within 
two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  the  old  buck  on  the 
hill.  By  lifting  my  head  carefully  I  could  get 
glimpses  of  several  others,  but  almost  despaired  of 
getting  closer,  and  had  no  faith  in  the  old  carbine 
for  such  a  long  shot. 

"  While  I  was  resting  and  getting  possession  of  my 
faculties,  the  animals  moved  a  few  yards  to  the  south. 
I  saw,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  ground  was  lower 
to  my  left  and  was  traversed  by  an  old  buffalo  trail. 
Moving  sideways  a  few  inches  at  a  time  and  hug- 
ging the  ground  desperately  close,  I  succeeded  in 
getting  to  the  trail,  which  entirely  hid  me  from  the 
animals.  This  was  satisfactory  to  a  hunter  if  noth- 
ing more.  After  resting  a  few  minutes  I  pulled, 
dragged,  and  pushed  myself  along  the  trail  fifty  or 
seventy-five  yards,  and  was  now  within  two  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  band,  and  had  neither  been  seen, 
smelled,  nor  heard.  I  lifted  my  head  very  slowly 
and  carefully  some  six  inches,  and  could  see,  through 
some  bunches  of  grass  which  grew  near  my  face,  the 
entire  band  of  fifteen  or  twenty  animals.  I  could 
scarcely  believe  my  eyes,  but  there  they  were  in  bold 
relief  against  the  sky — some  lying  down,  others 
standing  at  ease,  and  half  a  dozen  or  more  fawns 
running  and  playing  like  young  colts. 

"I  became  so  interested  in  watching  the  move- 
ments of  the  animals  that  I  forgot  for  a  while  what  I 
was  there  for.     It  seemed  a  shame  to  fire  into  the 


ALL  ABOUT  ANTELOPE.  13 

band  with  that  old  blunderbuss,  but  in  order  to  get 
fresh  meat  and  to  put  a  stop  to  certain  jokes  which 
would  be  my  portion  if  I  returned  to  camp  empty- 
handed,  I  resolved  to  do  my  best  and  kill  an  antelope. 
I  took  a  long  breath  and  trained  the  weapon  on  the 
nearest  full-grown  animal,  remembering  the  advice 
which  my  father  always  gave  me  to  'be  sure  that  the 
sights  are  on  the  gun  before  you  pull  trigger. ' 

"  I  fired,  and  in  less  than  a  second,  apparently  be- 
fore the  bullet  had  time  to  get  there,  that  whole  band 
was  in  motion.  It  was  a  grand  sight.  In  their  ex- 
citement they  ran  within  fifty  yards  of  me,  and  had 
it  not  been  for  an  accumulation  of  rust,  I  might  have 
extracted  the  empty  shell  and  got  another  shot  at 
them  at  close  range.  The  spotless  fawns  had  no 
trouble  in  keeping  up  with  the  band;  in  fact,  they 
seemed  to  be  playing  as  they  ran  along,  for  they 
leaped  and  bounded  in  the  air  as  if  they  enjoyed  the 
sport. 

"  In  less  than  a  minute  they  seemed  a  mile  away, 
and  in  a  half -minute  more  they  were  out  of  sight. 
They  impressed  me  with  the  fact  that  they  were  the 
proudest,  swiftest,  and  most  graceful  animals  I  had 
ever  seen. 

"  By  this  time  I  remembered  that  I  had  shot  at  one 
of  them,  and  with  a  feeling  of  anxiety  I  walked  over 
the  hill  to  where  the  band  had  been  standing.  To 
my  great  surprise  I  saw  a  big  old  antelope  lying  there 
dead.  It  almost  took  my  breath  awaj.  I  looked  at 
the  dead  antelope  and  then  at  the  old  carbine,  and 
decided  that  the  old  gun  was  the  best  shooter  on 
earth.     I  got  my  shoes,  and  lightening  the  load  as 


14  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

much  as  possible,  put  the  antelope  on  my  back  and 
brought  it  in.  From  the  feeling  of  my  shoulders  I 
think  it  weighed  two  hundred  pounds." 

It  weighed  about  seventy,  but  Dyche  was  tired. 

"Well,  now,  Dyche,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what 
you  noticed  about  the  animal.  You  have  been  study- 
ing about  large  mammals  ever  since  I  first  knew  you, 
and  are  too  much  of  a  naturalist  not  to  have  examined 
the  first  antelope  you  ever  killed."  This  question 
from  Snow  at  first  startled  Dyche,  but  after  getting 
over  a  little  diffidence  he  said : 

"  After  my  first  feeling  of  surprise,  I  began  to  look 
the  animal  over.     It  was  a  fat,  barren  doe. " 

"  A  what?  "  said  Dick.     "  What  is  a  barren  doe?  " 

"  A  doe  that  has  never  had  a  fawn,  or  loses  her 
fawn  early  in  the  spring  and  goes  without  one  for 
the  rest  of  the  summer,  is  called  a  barren  doe.  My 
attention  was  attracted  particularly  to  the  head, 
which  is  much  more  handsome  than  that  of  any  of 
the  deer  kind.  The  muzzle  was  delicately  and  well 
formed.  It  was  completely  covered  with  hair,  with 
the  exception  of  a  narrow  streak  between,  the  nostrils 
and  the  bare  skin  around  them,  which  was  vefy  black. 
The  ears  were  small — smaller  than  those  of  the  com- 
mon deer,  terminating  in  a  point  turning  inward  from 
the  general  direction  of  the  ear.  The  eye  was  large 
and  dark  hazel.  I  had  seen  it  described  as  'black,' 
'very  black,'  or  'intensely  black,'  and  I  made  a  close 
examination  to  satisfy  myself.  It  was  a  hazel  which, 
at  a  short  distance,  could  easily  be  mistaken  for 
black,  but  it  was  not  black.  The  horns  were  small, 
not  more  than  an  inch  long." 


USELESS  TAILS  AND  QUEER  HOENS.  15 

"  What  do  you  know  about  horns,  Dyche?  "  asked 
Snow. 

"  I  am  coming  to  that.  The  body  was  short,  thick, 
and  heavy,  and  looked  bunchy.  This  thick,  bunchy 
appearance,  by  the  way,  is  more  noticeable  on  a  cold 
day.  The  tail  is  painfully  short,  and  the  question 
naturally  arises,  'What  is  it  good  for  ?'  It  is  too 
small  for  either  ornament  or  use,  being  less  than 
three  inches  long.  No  other  American  animal  has 
such  trim  feet.  The  hoofs  are  long,  slender,  and 
sharply  pointed,  being  ebony  black  in  color.  One 
very  noticeable  and  striking  peculiarity  of  the  feet  is 
that  there  are  no  accessory  hoofs  on  the  back,  such 
as  are  seen  in  cows,  sheep,  goats,  and  deer. 

"Now  as  to  the  horns.  The  most  remarkable 
characteristic  of  the  antelope  is  that  it  has  true  horns 
and  not  antlers,  and  it  sheds  these  horns  every  year. 
Naturalists  have  been  doubtful  on  this  subject  for 
years ;  but  it  is  a  fact,  nevertheless,  that  such  is  the 
case.  All  species  of  deer  shed  their  antlers.  There 
is  a  wide  difference  between  horns  and  antlers.  True 
horns  are  seen  on  cows,  sheep,  and  goats,  while  ant- 
lers are  found  in  the  deer  family.  An  antler  is  a 
pure  bony  structure  growing  from  the  frontal  bone 
of  the  animal.  The  males  of  all  species  of  deer  grow 
their  antlers  every  year.  The  antler  begins  to  grow 
in  the  spring  about  the  time  that  leaves  begin  to 
sprout  on  the  trees,  first  appearing  on  the  animal's 
head  as  a  sort  of  knot  or  knob,  covered  with  velvety 
skin.  This  knob  grows  very  fast,  soon  being  several 
inches  long.  It  then  bifurcates,  and  two  knobs  are 
seen  on  the  end  of  the  protuberance.     One  of  these 


16  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

forms  the  main  branch  of  the  antler,  while  the  other 
is  the  first  prong  or  tine.  The  main  beam  continues 
to  grow  and  bifurcate  until  the  form  of  the  antler 
with  its  many  branches  is  completed,  which  occurs 
about  the  last  of  August.  This  is  a  wonderful 
growth  when  it  is  remembered  that  the  antlers  of  the 
elk  and  moose  sometimes  attain  the  weight  of  fifty  or 
sixty  pounds.  While  growing,  the  antlers,  especially 
the  growing  ends,  are  very  tender,  and  can  be 
whittled  with  a  knife  almost  as  easily  as  a  green 
cucumber.  As  it  approaches  the  base  the  antler  be- 
comes hard  and  bony  in  its  structure.  About  the 
time  the  leaves  of  the  trees  have  reached  their  growth 
and  have  ripened,  the  antlers  have  also  reached  their 
growth  and  are  ripe,  as  it  were.  They  are  now  very 
hard,  and  although  covered  with  the  velvet  skin,  it 
does  not  take  long  for  the  bucks  to  rub  them  clean 
by  raking  them  up  and  down  against  the  trees  and 
bushes  and  whipping  and  threshing  around  in  the 
underbrush.  After  the  velvet  has  been  removed  this 
whipping  and  threshing  process  is  continued  until 
the  antlers  are  very  hard  and  bear  a  fine  polish. 
The  natural  color  is  white,  but  this  continued  rub- 
bing in  the  dirt  and  against  the  bark  and  leaves  of 
trees  gives  them  a  brown  color,  as  seen  on  the  deer 
killed  in  the  forest." 

"Well,  what  is  the  use  of  the  antlers,  anyway?" 
asked  Dick.  "  They  get  their  growth  and  then  are 
shed  again  in  a  few  weeks." 

"  I  think  a  buck  without  antlers  would  not  be  in 
style,"  was  the  reply.  "  The  antlers  are  weapons  of 
warfare  with  other  bucks,  and  add  much  to  the  at- 


USELESS  TAILS  AND  QUEER  HORNS.  17 

tractive  appearance  of  the  animal  when  wooing  the 
doe.  When  a  buck  fights  any  other  animal  except 
another  buck  he  usually  uses  his  feet,  but  during  the 
rutting  season  the  bucks  fight  terrible  battles.  They 
tear  up  the  earth  and  break  down  the  trees  in  their 
struggles  with  each  other.  Sometimes  they  fight  so 
fiercely  that  their  horns  become  locked,  and  they  die 
from  exhaustion,  becoming  prey  for  wolves. 

"The  antlers  are  usually  dropped  soon  after  the 
rutting  season  has  closed.  Common  deer,  moose,  and 
caribou  begin  to  drop  their  antlers  about  the  last  of 
December,  old  bucks  shedding  them  earlier  than 
young  ones.  Elk  usually  carry  their  antlers  until 
March.  After  the  antlers  drop  off  the  skin  of  the 
head  grows  over  the  spot,  and  all  bucks  are  'muleys' 
until  the  warm  spring  days  start  the  horns  to  sprout- 
ing again. 

"  Now  I  am  ready  to  explain  what  I  said  about  the 
antelope's  shedding  its  horns.  The  part  shed  is  the 
shell,  which  is  a  true  horn  and  grows  on  the  bony 
horn-core  which  is  never  shed.  This  horn  is  unique 
and  interesting  in  several  respects.  About  half-way 
up  from  the  base  is  a  prong  or  branch,  which  is 
usually  rather  short.  It  stands  forward,  outward, 
and  upward.  No  other  true  horn  is  branched.  This 
peculiarity  has  given  to  the  animal  the  name  of 
prong  buck,  by  which  it  is  known  to  many  naturalists. 
The  prong  buck  sheds  his  horns  in  a  most  remark- 
able way.  The  true  horn  is  modified  skin,  as  the 
antler  is  modified  bone.  When  the  time  for  shed- 
ding the  horn  comes,  a  new  skin  begins  to  grow  be- 
tween the  shell  and  bony  core.     This  core  is  similar 


18  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

to  that  of  a  cow  and  stands  up  a  little  beyond  the 
prong.  The  old  horn  does  not  drop  off  and  then  let 
the  new  one  grow  as  in  the  case  of  antlers,  but  the  old 
horn  stays  on  the  core  to  protect  the  new  one  while  it 
is  growing.  As  the  new  horn-skin  develops,  a  lot  of 
coarse  hairs  grow  from  it  and  penetrate  the  old  horn 
shell  near  the  base,  where  it  is  quite  thin.  This  tends 
to  retain  the  old  shell  in  place  as  a  protection  to  the 
tender  horn  growing  under  it.  As  the  new  horn 
grows  it  produces  a  hard  tip  which  fits  on  the  end 
of  the  bony  core,  and  this  hard  portion  gradually 
extends  or  grows  down  over  the  bony  core  toward  its 
base.  When  the  entire  horn  is  hard,  then  the  old 
horn  or  shell  is  dropped  off,  leaving  the  bony  horn- 
core  covered  with  the  new  horn-skin.  The  new  horn, 
when  it  first  sees  daylight,  is  a  queer  instrument  of 
defence.  Its  upper  part  is  a  true  horn,  while  the 
lower  part  is  a  thick  skin  covered  with  coarse  hair. 
It  grows  harder  and  harder  all  summer  just  during 
the  period  when  the  true  deer  have  no  antlers,  and 
is  perfect  by  the  first  of  August." 

"Well,  there's  one  thing  about  antelope,"  said 
Snow;  "its  meat  can't  be  beaten." 

"It's  all  right  for  a  few  meals,"  was  the  reply  of 
Mudge  as  he  took  another  mouthful,  "but  for  a 
steady  diet  it  is  not  so  good  as  buffalo.  It  cloys  the 
stomach  when  you  get  too  much  of  it." 

Dyche's  success  induced  him  to  make  another  trial 
a  few  days  later,  and  he  went  after  more  antelope ; 
but  late  in  the  afternoon  he  returned  to  camp  with  an 
immense  rattlesnake  trailing  over  his  shoulder.  The 
reptile  was  one  of  the  largest  ever  seen  by  any  mem- 


FIGHT  WITH  A  RATTLESNAKE.  19 

ber  of  the  party,  being  four  feet  eight  inches  long 
and  proportionately  thick,  resembling  a  bull-snake. 
After  supper  Dyche  told  his  story  of  the  capture. 

"  Seeing  a  band  of  antelope  on  the  top  of  some  chalk 
bluffs,  I  slipped  along  to  get  a  shot  at  them.  As  I 
went  carefully  over  a  ledge  I  heard  something  drop 
behind  me,  and  looked  around  in  time  to  see  this  big 
fellow  coiling  for  another  spring.  He  had  jumped 
at  me  from  a  secluded  place  in  the  rocks,  and  missed 
my  foot  as  I  stepped  on  a  projecting  shelf.  I  went 
up  the  side  of  that  bluff  in  a  hurry,  thinking  nothing 
more  about  the  antelope.  I  had  my  insect  net  with 
me,  and  thought  he  would  be  a  fine  fellow  to  capture 
alive;  so  I  made  a  cast,  covering  him  completely, 
much  to  his  surprise,  but  I  was  the  most  surprised  of 
the  two  before  he  got  through  with  the  net,  for  it 
was  hardly  a  second  before  the  snake  had  coiled  and 
torn  the  net  to  pieces.  He  struck  it  viciously  several 
times,  and  then  began  looking  for  me.  I  dropped  a 
big  flat  rock  on  his  back,  which  I  thought  would 
crush  the  life  out  of  him,  but  he  came  out  from  under 
that  rock  in  a  hurry,  mad  clear  through.  He  struck 
the  rock  several  times,  leaving  great  green  splotches 
of  venom  on  it.  I  was  considerably  worked  up  my- 
self by  this  time,  and  began  pouring  such  a  fire  of 
rocks  upon  him  that  I  soon  put  him  where  he  could 
do  no  harm. 

"  I  tried  to  flag  some  antelope  to-day,  but  they  had 
been  tried  before.  I  saw  a  fawn  in  a  patch  of  grass, 
and  as  he  was  a  little  fellow  I  thought  I  could  catch 
him.  He  saw  me  and  went  out  of  sight  like  a  shot, 
and  I  then  heard  a  doe  on  the  slope  above  me  utter- 


oJ^-' 


20  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

ing  a  series  of  queer  squealing,  whistling  noises.  I 
followed  and  saw  a  herd  of  antelope.  As  they  were 
in  a  position  where  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  ap- 
proach them  unobserved,  I  thought  I  would  see  what 
there  was  in  flagging.  Carefully  adjusting  my  red 
handkerchief  to  my  gun,  I  raised  it  in  the  air  and 
waited  results.  As  soon  as  the  handkerchief  was 
seen  there  were  a  number  of  whistles,  and  then  the 
j  whole  band  trotted  off  and  did  not  stop  until  they 

^j)i^  were  a  mile  away."  * 

*fth '  Camp  was  now  moved  to  a  spot  near  Sheridan,  on  the 
railroad;  but  here  it  was  found  that  eternal  vigilance 
was  the  price  of  peace,  for  the  whole  country  was  over- 
run with  tramps.  They  were  so  numerous  that  it  was 
necessary  for  some  one  to  remain  at  camp  all  the  time 
to  protect  the  supplies.  This  became  so  annoying 
that  Dyche  concluded  to  try  the  effects  of  a  scare 
upon  the  unwelcome  visitors.  In  the  tent  was  a  bag 
of  live  snakes,  and  as  a  dozen  or  more  of  the  tramps 
were  lounging  around,  the  camp,  Dyche  brought  out 
the  bag  and  began  taking  the  reptiles  out  and  allow- 
ing them  to  squirm  about  his  body  and  head.  With 
both  hands  full  he  started  to  where  the  vagrants  were 
making  themselves  at  home,  and  was  pleased  to  see 
that  his  plan  worked  well.  After  that  it  was  onl}" 
necessary  to  begin  handling  the  snake-bag  to  clear 
the  place  of  tramps. 

The  location  was  found  to  be  undesirable  on  account 
of  tramps  and  hydrophobic  skunks,  and  it  was  deter- 
mined to  move  to  Colorado,  where  a  few  weeks  were 
spent  in  the  Platte  Canon,  completing  the  collection 
of  insects. 


CHAPTER  IIT. 

In  New  Mexico — Encounter  with  a  Bear — Cold  Hospital- 
ity—  The  Retired  Boston  Merchant  and  his  Mountain 
Ranch  —  An  Able  Missouri  Liar  —  The  Mule  that  was 
Not  a  Mule — Seven  Deer  with  Seven  Shots. 

ONTEZUMA  CAMP,  on  the  Gallinas 
River,  in  New  Mexico,  which  had  been 
pre-empted  for  two  summers  in  succession 
by  Professor  Snow,  was  an  ideal  spot  for 
an  insect-collector's  camp.  He  made  this  his  home 
camp  in  the  mountains  and  enjoyed  life  with  his 
family  during  the  summer  months  in  collecting 
and  arranging  the  various  rare  insects  which  abound 
in  that  part  of  the  country.  Dyche  was  with  him, 
but  the  limited  sphere  of  work  was  irksome  to  him, 
and  at  last  the  desire  to  get  among  big  game  became 
so  strong  that  he  started  on  a  tramp  up  the  moun- 
tains with  Walter  Russ,  a  student  who  was  on  his 
first  collecting  trip.  Dyche  wanted  to  hunt  deer  and 
possibly  bear,  and  Russ  thought  he  could  stand  it  as 
long  as  Dyche  could. 

A  ranch  eighteen  miles  from  Montezuma  Camp, 
on  the  Gallinas  River,  was  the  objective  point  for 
the  first  day,  and  Dyche  determined  to  reach  that 
place  by  night  if  it  was  within  the  range  of  human 
possibility.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  eighteen 
miles  in  a  day  is  not  a  long  trip,  but  when  it  is  over 

21 


22  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

a  country  where  there  is  not  even  a  trail,  and  through 
a  canon  where  half  the  time  must  be  spent  in  getting 
over  rocks  and  across  the  river,  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  task  before  the  two  men  was  anything  but  a, 
pleasant  one.  Dyche  carried  a  forty-two-pound  pack 
and  a  gun,  while  Russ  had  a  lighter  load ;  but  before 
they  reached  the  end  of  the  journey  the  loads  felt  as 
if  each  weighed  a  ton. 

Rain  began  falling  a  short  time  after  they  started 
and  poured  down  steadily  all  day,  soaking  their 
clothes  and  making  the  packs  weigh  heavier  and 
heavier  with  every  mile  traversed.  The  rain  so  in- 
creased the  volume  of  the  stream  that  the  slippery 
poles  which  served  for  foot-bridges  became  unsafe 
and  the  travellers  were  compelled  to  wade  the  river 
thirty-seven  times,  with  water  hip-deep.  The  pour- 
ing rain  had  so  soaked  the  travellers,  however,  that 
the  wading  had  little  effect  in  increasing  their  dis- 
comfort. Russ  was  tired  and  ready  to  give  up,  but 
was  cheered  on  by  Dyche,  who  used  all  his  persuasive 
powers  to  keep  his  companion  going  until  they  could 
reach  the  ranch. 

"While  stumbling  along,  exhausted  from  their  ex- 
traordinary exertions,  they  rounded  a  point  of  rocks 
and  came  face  to  face  with  a  big  black  bear.  The 
animal  was  scrambling  around  the  ledge,  evidently 
trying  to  keep  his  feet  dry,  and  was  within  thirty 
feet  of  the  two  men  when  they  saw  each  other.  The 
bear  rose  on  his  hind  feet  in  an  attitude  of  defiance, 
missed  his  footing,  rolled  over  into  the  stream  with 
a  snort  of  surprise,  got  up  with  a  double  snort  of 
terror,  and  made  a  wild  rush  up  the  opposite  side 


A 


ENCOUNTER  WITH  A  BEAR.  28 

of  the  mountain,  sending  rocks  and  mud  flying  in 
his  haste  to  get  away.  Russ  made  equally  good 
time  up  his  side  of  the  mountain,  all  the  while  beg- 
ging Dyche  not  to  shoot  but  to  let  the  bear  get  away 
if  it  wanted  to. 

Hurriedly  cutting  the  strings  which  bound  his  gun 
to  his  pack,  Dyche  got  the  weapon  and  shot  two  big 
holes  through  the  air  up  toward  the  place  where  the 
bear  was  making  such  frantic  efforts  to  get  away. 
The  shots  served  only  to  accelerate  the  movements  of 
both  the  bear  and  Russ,  and  in  a  minute  the  bear  was 
out  of  sight,  while  Russ  stood  shivering  away  up  on 
the  side  of  the  mountain.  The  episode  had  one  good 
effect.  Russ,  for  an  hour,  had  been  begging  Dyche 
to  stop  and  camp,  but  now  he  was  most  anxious  to 
push  on,  and  he  hurried  up  the  remaining  two  miles 
as  if  he  did  not  know  what  fatigue  was.  He  con- 
tinued to  urge  more  speed  until  they  reached  the 
park  in  which  Johnson's  ranch  was  situated,  and 
only  then  did  he  feel  perfectly  safe. 

Darkness  compelled  them  to  feel  their  way  along, 
and  with  outstretched  hands  they  groped  about  until 
they  found  a  house.  A  knock  at  the  door  brought  a 
man  whom  they  asked  for  shelter.  What  was  their 
surprise  when  they  received  a  short  answer  that  they 
could  get  no  accommodations  there.  Not  only  was 
admission  to  the  house  refused,  but  even  the  stable 
was  barred  against  them.  Begging  and  pleading 
was  of  no  avail,  though  the  rain  was  pouring  down 
on  them.  This  aroused  Dyche's  indignation,  and  he 
gave  the  proprietor  a  piece  of  his  mind  about  his  in- 
hospitality  which  had  the  effect  of  causing  th^  man 
3 


24  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

to  go  inside  for  consultation,  and  after  this  reluctant 
consent  was  given  for  them  to  enter. 

The  occupants  of  the  cabin,  two  men,  a  woman, 
and  .some  children,  eyed  the  visitors  with  suspicion, 
and  to  tell  the  truth  they  were  anything  but  reputa- 
ble-looking citizens  as  they  stood  before  the  big  fire- 
place with  their  clothes  dripping  wet  and  their  faces 
and  hands  cut  and  scratched  from  contact  with 
bushes  and  rocks  on  the  trail.  Dyche  noticed  that 
the  woman  seemed  frightened,  and  to  calm  her 
fears  he  took  from  his  haversack  a  package  of 
coffee  and  from  his  pocket  a  dollar  which  he  offered 
her  to  make  him  some  coffee.  This  partially  dis- 
pelled the  cloud  of  suspicion  which  rested  upon  them, 
and  soon  the  travellers  were  making  a  meal  from  the 
cold  lunch  which  they  had  in  their  haversacks  and 
the  steaming  coffee.  Securing  a  place  beside  the 
fire  they  were  soon  sleeping  the  sleep  of  exhaus- 
tion. 

Next  morning  Johnson,  the  proprietor  of  the  ranch, 
appeared  ashamed  of  his  inhospitality  of  the  pre- 
vious night,  and  explained  that  it  was  not  from 
any  desire  on  his  part  to  mistreat  the  travellers,  but 
that  he  was  not  in  good  condition  to  accommodate 
strangers  and  felt  particularly  sensitive  on  the  sub- 
ject, as  he  had  had  a  very  bitter  experience  with  a 
party  of  Englishmen  a  few  weeks  before.  These  men 
came  to  his  ranch,  asking  for  accommodations,  aud 
put  on  such  lordly  airs  and  found  so  much  fault 
that  Johnson  and  his  wife  determined  to  allow 
no  more  such  people  on  their  place.  When  Dyche 
and  Russ  came  they  supposed  that  it  was  another 


COLD  HOSPITALITY.  25 

party  of  Englishmen  and  took  measures  to  prevent  a 
repetition  of  the  insults.  Johnson  said  he  had  been 
partly  revenged  on  the  Englishmen,  as  a  silver-tip 
grizzly  bear  had  demolished  their  camp  which  they 
had  made  about  a  mile  from  the  ranch. 

The  Englishmen  were  there  to  get  a  bear  and  were 
supplied  with  all  that  money  could  buy  in  the  way 
of  hunting  outfits  and  delicacies  for  the  table.  They 
were  great  hunters  (in  their  OAvn  estimation)  and 
bragged  continually  about  the  big  game  which  they 
had  slaughtered.  Bear-tracks  were  plentiful  on 
the  mountain,  and  day  after  day  was  spent  by 
the  whole  party  looking  for  the  animals.  One 
night,  on  returning  after  a  fruitless  hunt,  they 
found  that  the  grizzly  had  shown  his  American 
contempt  for  all  things  British  and  had  literally 
captured  the  camp.  It  hardly  seemed  possible  that 
one  bear  could  do  so  much  damage  in  so  short 
a  time.  Sacks  of  sugar  had  been  torn  open,  eaten, 
and  trampled  on  the  ground ;  dried  fruit  was  scat- 
tered over  the  whole  place ;  cracker-boxes  had  been 
opened  and  the  contents  chewed  and  stamped  in 
the  dirt ;  flour-sacks  were  torn  to  pieces  and  the  con- 
tents made  into  a  paste  and  trodden  into  the  earth ; 
a  hundred  pounds  of  bacon  was  trampled,  torn,  and 
bitten  until  its  usefulness  was  gone ;  a  box  of  candles 
was  chewed  up  and  spewed  over  the  ground ;  three 
sacks  of  different-sized  shot  had  been  torn  open,  the 
contents  thoroughly  mixed  and  so  scattered  that  they 
were  of  no  more  value ;  the  tobacco  case  was  opened 
and  several  pounds  of  smoking  and  chewing  tobacco 
strewed  around  and  mixed  with  the  general  mess 


26  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

around  the  camp.  Bruin  had  fully  satisfied  his  ap- 
petite and  then  displayed  the  general  "  cussedness" 
of  his  nature  by  leaving  a  universal  wreck  behind 
him. 

And  how  those  Englishmen  did  rage !  They  swore 
vengeance  against  that  individual  bear  in  particular 
and  all  bears  in  general.  There  was  absolutely  noth- 
ing left  about  the  place  fit  to  eat.  Going  to  Johnson's 
they  begged  sufficient  food  to  last  them  until  they 
could  send  down  the  mountain  for  more  supplies. 
They  bought  a  big  bear-trap  and  imported  a  fine  Eng- 
lish hound  and  began  a  campaign  against  the  bear. 
The  greatest  loss  was  the  death  of  the  hound,  which 
was  caused  by  the  bite  of  a  trade  rat.  One  man  was 
now  constantly  on  guard  at  the  camp  while  the  others 
searched  the  woods  for  the  bear.  The  only  indica- 
tion they  ever  had  of  his  presence  afterward  was 
when  he  ate  up  a  deer  which  one  of  their  number 
killed  and  left  in  the  woods  while  he  returned  to 
camp  for  assistance  to  bring  it  in. 

The  top  of  the  mountain  was  still  seven  miles  away, 
and  Johnson  told  Dyche  of  another  ranch  there  be- 
longing to  a  man  named  Harvey,  who  could  probably 
give  them  better  hunting-grounds  than  would  be 
found  lower  down.  This  determined  the  hunters  to 
push  on  up  the  mountain.  Near  the  top  they  came 
upon  a  beautiful  park,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood  a 
lone,  one-roomed  cabin.  A  cow  and  burro  grazed 
on  the  luxuriant  grass  close  by,  and  a  man  was 
chopping  logs.  As  the  two  men  approached  he  rested 
from  his  labor  and  looked  at  them  with  surprise. 
The  visitors  opened  with  a  friendly  "  hello ! " 


THE  RETIRED  BOSTON  MERCHANT.  27 

"Hello,  there,  yourselves,"  was  the  response. 
"Where  in  time  did  you  fellows  come  from?  " 

"From  Johnson's  ranch." 

"  I  want  to  know ! " 

"  Is  this  Harvey's  ranch?  " 

"Yes;  but  hoAV  in  time  did  you  fellows  get  up 
here?  " 

"  Well,  we  saw  burro- tracks  leading  this  way  and 
followed  them." 

"  I  want  to  know !  Well,  you  did  mighty  well  to 
find  the  place." 

By  this  time  the  whole  party  was  seated  on  one  of 
the  logs  and  the  equipment  of  the  visitors  fully  in- 
spected by  the  owner  of  the  ranch,  who  finally  said : 

"Say,  what  in  time  are  you  fellows  going  to  do 
with  those  fish-nets?  There  ain't  no  fish  on  the  top 
of  this  mountain.  I  have  been  here  going  on  six 
weeks  and  it  ain't  rained  a  drop  since  I  came  here." 

"Where  did  you  come  from,  anyway,  that  you 
don't  know  insect-nets?  " 

"  Well,  I  want  to  know !  I  heard  about  you  bug- 
hunters  down  to  Vegas.  I  wish  you  would  catch  all 
the  green-head  files.  They  pester  my  old  cow  and 
burro  almost  to  death." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  a  cow  and  burro  can 
live  up  here?  " 

"Live  up  here?  Why,  there's  the  finest  grass  up 
here  you  ever  saw.  Look  at  my  potatoes  down 
there ;  they  were  planted  three  weeks  ago  to-day. 
Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  it  in  your  country? 
It  hasn't  rained  a  drop  since  I  came,  neither." 

"  Is  there  a  good  place  to  camp  around  here?  " 


28  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

"Camp?  Well,  I  want  to  know!  How  are  you 
going  to  camp?  " 

"  Why,  we  have  blankets  and  ten  days'  provisions 
in  our  packs." 

"Camp?  Yes,  camp  right  here  in  the  house," 
pointing  to  his  one-roomed  cabin. 

"  We  have  come  up  here  to  collect  insects  and  plants 
and  perhaps  to  kill  animals.  We  did  not  come  up  to 
inflict  ourselves  on  you  or  to  bother  you  in  any  way, 
unless  it  might  be  to  get  a  little  milk  from  that  cow 
now  and  then." 

"  We  have  the  finest  milk  up  here  you  ever  saw 
and  you  can  have  all  you  want  of  it.  That's  about 
all  we  do  have  that's  fresh,  except  air  and  water.  If 
one  of  you  fellows  don't  kill  a  deer  pretty  soon  there 
won't  be  any  meat  on  this  mountain." 

"  Are  there  many  deer  on  this  mountain?  " 

"  Deer?  I  want  to  know !  Why,  you  can  see  deer 
'most  any  day  over  on  that  hillside  in  the  quakin'  asp. 
You  can  stand  right  here  in  the  door  and  see  them 
pass  along  any  morning.  They've  been  shot  at  sev- 
eral times,  though,  and  are  gettin'  kinder  wild,  but 
they're  here." 

"Can  we  camp  down  in  that  point  of  quaking 
asp?" 

"  No,  you  can  camp  right  here  at  the  house,  cook 
at  the  big  fire-place,  and  sleep  in-doors.  It  gets 
mighty  cold  up  here  at  night." 

At  this  juncture  a  tall  lady,  whose  bearing  was  in 
strange  contrast  with  her  surroundings,  appeared  at 
the  door,  saying : 

"High,  dinner  is  ready." 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  RANCH,  29 

"  Come  in  to  dinner,  boys.  We  haven't  got  much. 
Only  been  up  here  six  weeks.  That's  a  hard  moun- 
tain to  pack  stuff  up  with  burros,"  said  Harvey, 
and  the  party  entered  the  house. 

A  more  primitive  cabin  could  hardly  be  imagined. 
The  furniture,  cut  from  timber,  was  simply  and 
strangely  made.  A  large  fire-place  at  one  end  of  the 
room  glowed  with  a  bed  of  living  coals.  A  curtain 
in  one  corner  hid  a  pole  bedstead,  while  in  the  corner 
diagonally  opposite  a  pole  table,  at  which  were  several 
three-legged  stools,  completed  the  furniture.  A  lone 
window  let  in  light  through  small  plates  of  mica 
which  had  been  quarried  from  the  mountain-side. 
Long  poles,  overlaid  with  sod,  formed  a  compact  roof 
and  kept  out  rain  and  cold.  Here  with  his  wife  and 
two  boys,  Clarence  and  Allie,  Harvey  made  his  home. 

With  no  apology  from  Mrs.  Harvey,  who  served 
the  dinner  daintily,  all  sat  down  to  a  meal  composed 
of  baked  beans,  Boston  brown  bread,  and  coffee. 
It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  the  tired  tramps 
made  the  most  of  it.  During  the  meal  it  trans- 
pired that  Harvey  was  an  ex-Boston  merchant, 
whose  good  nature  had  run  away  with  his  judg- 
ment to  such  an  extent  that  he  finally  found  all 
his  capital  and  profits  trusted  to  those  who  either 
could  not  or  would  not  pay,  and  he  was  compelled  to 
seek  a  new  life  in  the  West.  In  his  wanderings  he 
reached  this  spot,  and  his  eyes  were  so  filled  with  the 
beauty  of  the  place  that  he  determined  to  make  it  his 
home.  Water  and  grass  were  there,  while  trees  grew 
on  the  hillside.  What  more  did  he  want?  He  built 
his  cabin  and  prepared  to  stand  the  heavy  snows  and 


30  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

low  temperature  which  the  ranchmen  of  the  valley 
told  him  he  would  experience.  To  all  their  tales  of 
woe  his  invariable  answer  was : 

"  I  want  to  know !  "  * 

Dyche  and  Russ  accepted  the  invitation  which  was 
given  with  such  sincerity,  and  several  days  were 
spent  searching  for  rare  insects  and  plants.  When 
a  goodly  number  of  specimens  had  been  secured  Russ 
returned  to  Camp  Montezuma  with  them  and  Dyche 
remained  at  the  ranch  intending  to  hunt  animals 
and  birds.  Harvey's  continued  talk  of  the  number 
and  apparent  tameness  of  deer  gave  Dyche  a  de- 
sire to  obtain  a  few  for  specimens  and  at  the  same 
time  for  a  supply  of  fresh  meat  at  the  ranch. 
With  this  double  object  in  view  he  started  every 
morning  early  and  returned  every  evening  with 
monotonous  regularity  with  the  same  story  to  tell. 
He  had  seen  deer,  but  just  as  he  got  ready  to  shoot 
they  disappeared  in  the  woods  and  he  could  not  find 
them  again.  At  last  he  went  out,  saying  he  would 
not  come  back  until  he  got  a  deer.  He  left  the  ranch 
early  with  a  single  biscuit  in  his  pocket  for  lunch. 
It  was  almost  dark  when  they  heard  three  wild 
whoops  away  up  on  the  side  of  the  mountain.     An- 

*  Four  years  later  Harvey's  labor  had  borne  good  fruit  and  his  mountain 
home,  ten  tliousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  had  become  a  favorite  re- 
sort of  tourists.  The  ranch  is  the  highest  on  the  American  continent  and  is 
peculiarly  isolated.  Fifty  acres  are  now  under  cultivation  and  over  a  hun- 
dred head  of  horses,  cattle,  and  burros  graze  on  the  grass  of  the  meadow. 
Tons  of  hay,  barley,  wheat,  rye,  and  oats  are  raised,  and  from  his  dairy  he 
sells  many  pounds  of  butter  and  cheese.  Notwithstanding  the  altitude, 
the  climate  is  salubrious,  and  the  several  log-cabins  which  he  has  built  find 
tenants  each  summer.  During  the  winter  he  finds  that  the  temperature  is 
rarely  below  zero,  while  the  snow-fall  is  light,  and  the  valley  is  suitable  for 
occupancy  the  entire  year. 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  RANCH,  81 

swering  shouts  rang  out,  and  the  ranch  was  imme- 
diately a  scene  of  excitement  and  bustle,  for  the 
signal  was  understood.     Dyche  had  got  a  deer. 

"Hurry  up  there,  boys,  and  get  that  pack-saddle 
on  old  Reuben.  Don't  you  hear  that  feller  hollerin'? 
He's  got  a  deer,  sure !"  called  out  Harvey. 

Away  they  hurried  up  the  mountain,  and  at  the 
edge  of  a  bunch  of  quaking  asp  they  found  Dyche 
standing  beside  a  fine  young  buck,  while  at  a  little 
distance  lay  a  second  equally  fine.  The  deer  were 
placed  on  the  burro  and  the  procession  went  to  the 
ranch,  where  they  were  met  by  Mrs.  Harvey.  Every- 
body was  talking  at  once  and  no  one  cared  what  the 
other  had  to  say.  The  hour  was  late  and  one  deer 
was  dressed  and  quartered.  Harvey  showed  that  he 
was  a  good  cook  himself,  and  while  his  wife  prepared 
the  biscuits  and  coffee  he  broiled  the  venison  steaks 
over  the  coals  in  the  fire-place.  The  hot  supper  was 
enjoyed  by  all,  and  then  Dyche  told  the  story  of  his 
day's  hunt. 

"  I  had  walked  all  day  without  getting  sight  of 
anything  worth  shooting.  I  was  tired  and  disgusted 
and  was  dragging  myself  home  when  I  reached  the 
bunch  of  quaking  asp  and  willows,  up  there.  I  had 
been  along  there  several  times  before  but  had  always 
gone  around  the  thicket.  This  time  I  went  through 
it.  I  got  down  on  my  hands  and  knees  and  crawled 
in.  The  ground  was  wet  and  mossy,  but  that  made 
no  difference.  After  proceeding  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  in  this  way  I  reached  a  small  grassy  park  in 
the  centre  of  the  thicket.  Just  as  I  entered  it  on  one 
side  I  saw  three  deer  going  out  on  the  other.     They 


32  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

stopped  for  a  minute  at  the  edge  of  the  timber  and 
my  Winchester,  which  was  already  pointed  that 
way,  was  fired  at  a  fine  young  buck.  I  took  as  good 
an  aim  as  was  possible  in  my  nervous  state.  The 
buck  bounded  into  the  forest  with  th^  others,  and  in 
a  second  I  saw  one  of  the  number  stop  an  instant  so 
that  I  could  get  a  glimpse  of  his  body  as  he  passed 
between  the  trees.  I  shot  a  second  time,  taking  even 
more  care  than  at  first.  The  smoke  came  back  in 
my  face  and  made  me  very  uncomfortable.  I  walked 
slowly  and  carefully  across  the  opening,  watching 
for  the  slightest  movement,  but  all  was  still  and  I 
could  neither  see  nor  hear  the  deer.  I  found  plenty 
of  tracks  and  then  great  spots  of  blood .  Now  I  knew 
my  chances  were  good,  I  went  rapidly  forward  on 
the  trail  and  a  few  rods  further  found  the  buck  lying 
by  the  side  of  a  log  where  he  had  made  his  last  leap. 
He  was  stone  dead.  I  felt  like  cheering,  but  restrained 
myself  and  began  searching  for  more  signs  of  deer. 
I  thought  I  might  have  wounded  another  and  did  not 
like  to  leave  a  wounded  deer.  I  followed  one  trail 
for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  but  saw  no  signs  of 
blood  and  then  returned  to  the  other  track.  This  led 
me  only  a  few  yards  and  there  I  found  the  second 
deer,  shot  dead  in  his  tracks.  Now  was  the  time  to 
yell,  and  yell  I  did,  and  you  know  the  rest  of  the 
story,  for  you  have  eaten  fresh  meat." 

"  I  want  to  know !  And  this  is  the  finest  meat  I 
have  ever  tasted,  too." 

Several  days  later  Dyche  again  went  out  with  the 
intention  of  getting  a  deer  before  he  returned.  Away 
up  on  the  side  of  the  mountain  he  was  making  his 


HIS  MOUNTAIN  RANCH.  38 

way  carefully,  stepping  softly  and  avoiding  stones 
and  twigs  in  his  pathway  for  fear  the  noise  would 
disturb  the  game.  At  the  opening  of  a  beautiful 
mountain  meadow  he  stood  entranced  at  the  picture 
which  was  presented  to  his  gaze.  At  his  feet,  off  to 
the  west,  lay  "Paradise  Valley,"  as  Harvey  had 
named  his  ranch.  Down  through  a  narrow  defile  in 
the  mountains,  as  through  a  golden  frame  tinged 
with  green,  could  be  seen  a  picture  the  like  of  which 
had  never  been  limned  by  painter's  brush.  Looking 
over  the  beautiful  valley,  all  aglow  with  the  beams 
of  the  morning's  sun,  the  circling  crags  of  the  high- 
est mountain  held  in  their  mighty  grasp,  in  peaceful 
seclusion,  the  ideal  home  of  one  tired  of  the  world 
and  its  constant  warfare.  Out  through  the  canon, 
up  which  the  winding  trail  led,  was  seen  a  vast  cleft 
at  the  foot  of  which  lay  a  mirror-like  lake,  reflecting 
the  beauties  of  hill  and  dale.  The  grassy  slope  led 
off  on  either  side,  and  the  clusters  of  fir,  spruce,  and 
quaking  asp  trees  formed  a  living  picture  in  vivid 
colors. 

While  looking  at  the  scene  and  breathing  the 
pure  air  which  gave  him  new  life,  Dyche  came  upon 
a  large  doe.  The  startled  animal  was  hurrying  across 
the  open  ground  and  had  just  reached  the  edge  of  the 
timber,  when  the  gun  spoke  and  she  dropped  in  her 
tracks  with  a  ball  through  the  shoulders.  The  vis- 
cera were  removed  and  the  blood  wiped  out  with 
grass  and  leaves,  and  the  ranch  was  reached  just  as 
Harvey  was  preparing  to  get  out  of  bed.  At  the 
word  "  deer"  the  ranchman  was  half  out,  and  before 
the  word  "  killed"  was  uttered  he  was  dressing. 


34  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

"  I  want  to  know !  Another  deer !  Clare,  get  old 
Reuben  and  bring  him  up  here  in  a  hurry.  We'll  go 
right  after  that  deer.  Rhea,"  calling  to  his  wife, 
"  Dyche  has  another  deer.  Don't  it  beat  time !  Say, 
Rhea,  give  us  an  extra  mess  of  that  venison  this 
morning.  Well,  I  want  to  know !  If  he  didn't  bring 
the  liver  with  him !  Cook  a  good  lot  of  that  too. 
How  far  is  it?  Just  think  of  it,  Rhea,  just  up  here 
at  the  head  of  the  meadow.  Three  deer  killed  almost 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  house.  This  is  the 
country  for  me.  They  wouldn't  believe  it  if  I  should 
write  it  back  to  Boston." 

Clare  brought  up  old  Reuben,  and  while  Mrs. 
Harvey  cooked  the  venison  the  deer  was  brought  down 
from  the  mountain.  The  old  doe  was  a  good  load 
for  the  burro  and  much  trouble  was  experienced  in 
making  the  contrary  brute  carry  it  down  safely. 
How  that  breakfast  was  enjoyed !  The  long  morning 
tramp  and  the  bracing  air  sharpened  the  appetite, 
while  the  savory  venison,  flanked  on  either  side  by 
hot  gems  and  washed  down  by  such  coffee  and  cream 
as  can  only  be  obtained  at  Harvey's  ranch,  made  a 
meal  not  easily  forgotten. 

Dyche  now  had  two  young  deer,  buck  and  doe,  and 
an  old  doe  for  specimens,  but  the  mountains  had  too 
great  a  charm  for  him  and  he  could  not  leave  them. 
The  early  morning  hunts  and  the  trailing  of  the  deer 
through  the  woods  were  too  great  a  pleasure  to  be 
soon  foregone.  A  few  days  after  killing  the  doe  a 
rain  fell  just  at  the  dinner-hour  and  continued  for  a 
few  minutes  after.  When  it  cleared  and  the  sun 
came  out  Dyche  took  his  Winchester  and  started  up 


^iV  ABLE  MISSOURI  LIAR.  86 

the  side  of  the  mountain.  Trees  and  grass  were  heavy 
with  water  and  he  was  soon  soaking  wet.  While 
going  carefully  through  the  underbrush,  making  as 
little  noise  as  possible,  he  was  suddenly  startled  by  a 
noise  about  twenty-five  yards  in  front  of  him.  A 
deer  jumped  out  and  ran  with  long  bounds  for  about 
fifty  yards,  when  it  stopped  and  looked  back.  Just  a 
small  portion  of  the  back  was  visible  through  the 
underbrush.  Taking  careful  aim  he  fired,  and  mak- 
ing his  way  through  the  bushes  found  that  he  had 
broken  the  back  of  a  doe.  Her  hair  was  in  fine  con- 
dition and  in  everyway  she  was  a  splendid  specimen. 
The  old  signal-yell  was  given,  and  answering  shouts 
came  up  from  the  valley  as  Harvey  and  the  boys 
with  Reuben  hastened  to  get  the  quarry. 

As  Harvey  had  occasion  to  go  to  Las  Vegas,  Dyche 
sent  a  good  load  of  venison  to  the  party  at  Camp 
Montezuma.  At  Las  Vegas  Harvey  picked  up  a 
man  who  said  he  was  a  Missourian  and  brought  him 
along  to  work  for  the  summer.  According  to  the 
Missourian 's  story,  he  was  the  greatest  deer-hunter 
that  ever  lived.  He  had  killed  twenty-five  the  win- 
ter before.  Twenty-four  of  them  were  shot  through 
the  heart.  One  of  them,  a  big  buck,  had  been  out  of 
sight  except  the  head,  and  its  neck  was  broken  just 
back  of  the  ears.  So  many  stories  like  these  were  told 
by  the  Missourian  that  Dyche  and  Harvey  took  him 
out  on  the  mountain  to  hunt  deer.  Passing  down  a 
meadow  with  the  Missourian  about  two  hundred 
yards  ahead,  two  deer  suddenly  jumped  up  some 
forty  yards  in  front  of  the  deer-slayer.  They  stood 
looking  at  him  and  he  returned  the  stare.     At  last 


36  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

thej^  got  disgusted  and  moved  slowly  off  into  the 
woods.  Harvey  and  Dyche  rushed  down  to  the  spot 
and  breathlessly  asked : 

"  Why  in  thunder  didn't  you  shoot  at  those  deer?" 

"What  deer?" 

"  What  deer !  Well,  I  want  to  know !  Didn't  you 
see  them  two  deer  at  the  edge  of  the  brush?" 

"  I  didn't  see  any  deer." 

"  Well,  I  want  to  know !  I  guess  you  had  it  bad. 
They  looked  you  right  in  the  face  and  waited  for  you 
to  shoot.     You'll  never  get  another  such  chance." 

The  alleged  deer-slayer  was  the  target  for  so  many 
jokes  about  the  affair  that  he  never  again  mentioned 
his  hunting  qualifications. 

Dyche  now  concluded  to  extend  his  field  of  opera- 
tions, as  he  had  hunted  thoroughly  over  the  ground 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  ranch.  With  this  end  in 
view  he  went  about  four  miles  over  the  mountain 
into  another  natural  park.  Mexicans  had  built  a 
slight  inclosure  and  kept  their  animals  during  the 
summer  up  in  the  park.  There  were  at  the  time 
about  a  dozen  horses  and  mules  in  the  inclosure.  The 
Mexicans  rarely  visited  the  place,  and  it  was  as  wild 
as  any  part  of  the  country.  While  following  the 
fresh  trail  of  a  deer,  Dyche  suddenly  came  upon  an 
animal  standing  in  the  brush.  After  a  long  exam- 
ination he  thought  that  it  was  a  mule.  Going  a  little 
closer  he  made  another  examination  and  was  almost 
sure  it  was  a  mule.  He  walked  slowly  nearer  and 
could  see  part  of  the  side  and  one  leg.  He  was  now 
very  sure  it  was  a  mule  and  walked  boldly  forward 
to  within  thirty  yards  of  the  animal,  which  suddenly 


SEVEN  DEER  WITH  SEVEN  SHOTS.  37 

gave  a  great  bound  and  went  crashing  through  the 
woods,  making  a  noise  like  a  herd  of  cattle.  In  a 
very  few  minutes  it  was  out  of  sight,  and  Dyche  real- 
ized that  he  had  missed  an  opportunity  of  getting  a 
fine  bull  elk.  He  followed  it  seven  or  eight  miles, 
but  overtaking  that  elk  was  out  of  the  question, 
so  the  hunter  returned  to  the  ranch  and  spent  several 
days  meditating  upon  his  loss. 

An  old  Virginia  buck  deer  ranged  through  the 
jiountains  and  had  been  seen  several  times ;  but  he 
had  been  hunted,  and  it  has  not  yet  been  chronicled 
if  there  is  anything  wilder  or  more  tricky  than  a 
Virginia  deer  that  has  been  hunted.  This  old  fellow 
in  particular  seemed  to  be  equal  to  all  the  snares  and 
traps  laid  for  him.  One  cool,  frosty  September  morn- 
ing Dyche  carefully  made  his  way  through  the  woods 
frequented  by  this  particular  deer.  While  skirting 
along  the  edge  of  a  piece  of  timber  he  espied  a  mov- 
ing object  across  the  opening.  It  was  about  half  a 
mile  awp.y,  but  he  could  see  that  it  was  a  buck.  It 
had  its  head  high  in  the  air  and  was  on  the  lookout 
for  danger.  His  general  direction  lay  down  a  ridge. 
Dyche  crawled  to  a  point  where  he  calculated  the 
animal  would  pass.  It  was  cold,  and  this  with  his 
nervousness  put  Dyche  in  a  tremble.  Minute  after 
minute  went  by  and  no  deer  came.  He  was  just 
about  to  give  it  up,  when  the  deer  appeared  in  a 
bunch  of  quaking  asp  about  eighty  yards  away.  He 
had  deserted  the  ridge  and  was  hiding  in  the  thick 
woods.  Hardly  daring  to  breathe,  Dyche  trained  the 
gun  toward  the  old  fellow,  when  something  attracted 
the  animal's  attention  and  it  gave  three  or  four  great 


88  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

bounds  with  its  head  high  in  the  air  and  stopped, 
stone  still,  listening.  Then  the  rifle  spoke  and  the 
buck  crashed  through  the  woods  at  full  speed,  but  he 
was  jumping  high.  Soon  he  came  to  the  ground  in 
a  heap,  and  the  signal-yell  brought  the  hojs  and 
Reuben  and  the  finest  specimen  of  the  trip  was  taken 
to  the  ranch.  With  seven  deer  killed  with  seven 
shots,  Dyche  was  now  ready  to  return  to  his  duties 
away  from  the  woods, 


\^^^^m^^ 

I 

mM 

'  ^^^^H 

^^iBk. 

'  ^-i^^^^^l 

Ml 

^ 

•f'iliM^^^^^^^^B 

^^1 

^H^K        \  ^     jn 

•-^HMKn^^              '"      ^  ^,^1^^^^^^^^^^^ 

^H 

HW 

^^5^rt 


As  he  appeared  in  the  opening. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

lu  New  Mexico — Hunting  Bear — Once  more  at  Harvey's — The 
Same  Luck  —  Camp  Bear  Trail  —  The  last  Pot-Shot  —  A 
Long  Chase — In  Ambush — Too  Much  of  a  Good  Thing — 
A  Monarch  Dethroned — What  was  Done  with  the  Royal 
Hide. 

»T  was  under  greatly  changed  conditions 
that  Dyche  climbed  the  trail  leading  to 
Harvey's  ranch,  a  year  after  the  inci- 
dents related  in  the  last  chapter.  He 
now  knew  what  to  expect  in  the  way  of  game  and 
went  well  prepared  for  the  summer's  campaign.  He 
had  given  the  subject  much  thought  during  the  win- 
ter months,  and  this  time  he  was  after  bears.  For 
his  companion  he  had  a  student  who  displayed  nerve, 
endurance,  and  tact — three  indispensable  attributes  of 
a  good  camper  and  collector. 

It  was  early  in  June  when  Dyche  and  Brown  left 
Las  Vegas  and  took  the  old  trail  up  the  Gallinas 
River.  The  day  was  fine  and  travelling  good,  and 
they  reached  Harvey's  home  in  good  season.  Dyche 
was  little  prepared  for  the  change  which  had  been 
wrought  in  the  mountain  ranch.  Harvey  had  util- 
ized every  moment,  and  now  in  place  of  the  little 
one- roomed  cabin  there  stood  an  imposing  log-house 
with  shingled  roof,  a  log-barn  partly  up,  and  the  ex- 
Boston  merchant  had  prepared  five  acres  each  for 
4  39 


40  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

oats  and  wheat,  while  two  acres  were  in  potatoes. 
His  herd  of  one  cow  and  burro  had  increased  until 
he  had  several  of  each  kind.  Substantial  furniture 
replaced  the  pole  table,  bedstead,  and  stools,  and  to 
crown  all  there  was  a  large  cooking-range  in  the 
kitchen.  As  all  these  additions  had  been  transported 
up  the  narrow  trail  on  the  backs  of  burros,  it  was 
always  a  mystery  to  Dyche  how  the  stove  had  been 
brought  in.  The  two  old-fashioned  fire-places  gave 
to  the  whole  a  home-like  appearance  which  brought 
many  pleasant  memories  to  Dyche. 

As  the  naturalists  neared  the  ranch  they  saw 
Harvey  at  work  in  his  field,  and  Dyche  gave  the 
signal-yell  which  had  been  used  last  j^ear  to  notify 
the  ranch  of  the  death  of  a  deer.  As  the  sound 
reached  Harvey  he  gave  a  jump  and  sent  back  the 
answering  yell,  while  from  the  house  rushed  the  boys, 
and  even  old  Reuben  recognized  the  sound  and  added 
his  sweet  voice  to  the  general  clamor.  They  came 
pell-mell  down  the  trail,  with  Reuben  bringing  up 
the  rear ;  and  Dyche  was  soon  surrounded  by  the  trio, 
each  trying  to  shake  his  hand  and  all  talking  at  once. 

"There's  not  been  a  deer  killed  since  you  left  here," 
said  Harvey.  "  Beaty  and  his  partner  have  a  cabin 
up  here  above  the  meadow,  where  they  are  mining 
mica.  They  have  been  hunting  deer  and  hunting 
deer  all  winter  and  got  nothing.  I  guess  they  have 
either  run  them  all  off  or  made  them  so  wild  that 
you  won't  be  able  to  get  one.  I've  been  telling  them 
how  you  got  one  at  every  shot  and  whenever  you 
wanted  one." 

"  Well,  we'll  have  something  better  this  year.     I've 


ONCE  MORE  AT  HARVEY'S.  41 

got  a  new  gun,  a  regular  bear-gun.      It's  the  old 
reliable  Sharp's  rifle." 

"  I  want  to  know !  " 

"Yes.  We  are  going  to  have  bear-meat  this 
year. " 

"  I  want  to  know !  I  saw  bear-tracks  down  below 
the  meadow  not  over  a  week  ago,  and  not  a  month 
ago  one  ate  up  my  calf  that  died.  There  are  bear 
here.  Beaty  and  his  partner  have  been  after  them, 
but  they  get  nothing." 

Dinner  was  soon  ready  and  all  went  into  the  house 
to  attend  to  the  inner  man.  Reuben  was  a  privileged 
character,  but  Mrs.  Harvey  let  him  understand  that 
his  privileges  ended,  at  the  door  of  the  house,  and  he 
stood  near  the  step  chewing  an  old  dish-rag  which 
had  inadvertently  been  left  outside.  The  most 
noticeable  change  about  the  place  was  on  the  table. 
Plates,  knives,  forks,  spoons,  and  dishes  were  there, 
and  they  were  set  on  a  fine  extension  table.  But 
when  the  viands  were  spread  there  was  something 
which  could  not  have  been  changed — that  freshness 
and  flavor  of  the  wilderness  which  brought  back  such 
a  flood  of  memories  to  Dyche  that  he  could  scarcely 
finish  the  meal,  so  anxious  was  he  to  get  out  again 
among  the  quaking  asp  and  fir. 

After  dinner  Brown  went  back  down  the  trail  with 
a  train  of  burros  to  get  some  articles  which  had  been 
left  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  Dyche  unstrapped 
his  new  rifle  and  wandered  off  over  the  old  familiar 
hills.  He  cared  little  for  the  game  he  might  find. 
His  whole  being  was  filled  with  the  joy  which  comes 
only  to  those  who  have  roamed  over  the  fastnesses 


42  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

of  the  mountains  in  perfect  freedom — a  thing  of 
which  the  naturalist  hunter  alone  can  boast. 

Just  as  the  sun  was  going  over  the  western  range 
the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle  was  heard  in  a  willow 
patch  up  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  and  this  was 
soon  followed  by  the  familiar  shout.  When  the 
gunshot  was  heard  Harvey  could  hardly  wait  for  the 
signal,  and  he  yelled  to  the  boys  to  saddle  old  Keuben, 
for  he  was  sure  Dyche  had  a  deer.  When  the  call 
came  ringing  down  the  hillside  pandemonium  reigned 
at  the  ranch.  Harvey  alternately  sang,  danced,  and 
shouted,  and  then  scolded  the  boys  for  being  so  slow. 

"  Get  on  the  skillet,  Rhea — Dyche  has  a  deer.  I 
knew  he  would  get  one.  Hurry  up  there,  boys. 
What  in  time  are  you  poking  along  so  for?" 

Harvey,  the  boys,  and  Reuben  were  soon  at  the 
clump  of  trees  and  found  Dyche  standing  by  the  side 
of  a  fine  doe.  It  was  carried  to  the  ranch  in  triumph, 
Harvey  alternately  congratulating  Dyche  and  then 
himseK  on  the  success  of  the  hunt.  He  was  im- 
patient to  let  Beaty  know  of  it,  and  told  Dyche  that 
he  would  not  have  had  that  deer  missed  for  any- 
thing. He  would  rather  have  given  fifty,  yes,  a  hun- 
dred dollars  than  to  have  missed  getting  that  deer. 

"  I  knew  you  couldn't  help  getting  one.  How  in 
time  did  you  find  him  so  easy?  Beaty  never  could 
see  one  in  this  part  of  the  mountain." 

"I  spent  the  afternoon  wandering  around  and 
thinking  of  the  fine  times  I  had  last  year.  I  recalled 
how  I  had  stalked  a  buck  there  and  had  been  disap- 
pointed under  that  tree;  how  a  doe  had  once  jumped 
out  of  that  clump  of  bushes  and  how  I  had  killed  a 


THE  SAME  LUCK.  43 

deer  in  this  opening.  I  paid  little  attention  to  any- 
thing, but  just  wanted  to  breathe  the  fresh  air  and 
smell  the  fir  trees.  Just  at  sundown  I  reached  the 
edge  of  that  clump  of  willows  and  stalked  carefully 
through  it,  as  it  seemed  a  likely  place  to  find  game. 
Away  across  on  the  other  side  I  saw  something 
move.  Watching  carefully  I  soon  made  out  that  it 
was  a  deer,  and  stood  perfectly  still,  while  the  ani- 
mal walked  out  into  the  opening  and  began  nibbling 
grass.  It  was  a  long  way  to  shoot,  over  two  hundred 
yards,  but  I  knew  if  I  moved  the  animal  would  see 
me  and  be  off  like  a  shot.  I  set  the  sights  on  *01d 
Reliable '  at  three  hundred  yards,  took  the  best  aim 
possible,  and  pulled  trigger.  When  the  smoke  cleared 
away  I  went  over  and  found  the  old  doe  with  her 
back  broken." 

But  Dyche  was  after  bear  this  year  and  had  no 
time  to  spend  at  the  ranch.  Three  days  later,  with 
a  string  of  burros  hired  from  Harvey,  the  natural- 
ists started  over  an  old  trail  to  a  point  higher  in  the 
mountains,  where  man  had  rarely  been.  A  chapter 
might  be  written  on  the  haps  and  mishaps  of  that  trip. 
The  trail  was  almost  obliterated  and  the  hunters  were 
unused  to  carrying  packs,  and  the  trials  and  tribula- 
tions of  that  journey  were  quite  enough  to  discourage 
a  man  of  less  persistence.  It  might  be  told  how  the 
packs  would  slip,  and  how  the  donkeys  would  go  the 
wrong  way  at  the  wrong  time ;  how  they  would  refuse 
to  cross  streams  at  critical  moments,  and  how  one  ob- 
stinate old  jenny  had  deliberately  broken  through  the 
crust  of  snow  and  almost  frozen  her  legs  before  they 
could  tunnel  her  out  of  the  deep  drift.     But  bears 


44  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

the  party  must  have  now.  They  were  encamped  in 
a  little  meadow  which  marked  a  pass  between  two 
snow-capped  ranges.  Each  night  on  the  way  up  the 
mountain  had  been  full  of  incident  and  adventure.  It 
is  a  story  in  itself  to  tell  of  the  terrible  wind  which 
blew  the  dead  trees  down  about  the  camp  during  the 
first  night  on  the  trail ;  how  the  monarchs  of  the  forest 
came  crashing  down  in  all  directions  and  threatened 
destruction  to  the  campers ;  how  the  tent  was  crushed 
and  the  donkeys  almost  frightened  out  of  their  wits 
by  the  storm ;  how  the  following  night  some  wild 
animal,  probably  a  bear  or  lion,  had  scared  the  bur- 
ros so  that  they  rushed  into  camp  and  would  not 
venture  out  again  after  grass ;  how  old  Reuben  im- 
proved the  opportunity  to  make  a  meal  of  the  dish-rag 
and  had  eaten  half  a  bar  of  soap  before  he  was  dis- 
covered and  tied  to  a  tree  with  a  very  short  rope  in 
order  that  he  might  meditate  on  his  sins.  All  things 
must  come  to  an  end,  and  this  trip  up  the  mountains 
was  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

Just  at  dark  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day  camp 
was  made  in  a  little  mountain  meadow,  and  when 
daylight  came  next  morning  they  saw  that  the  place 
could  not  have  been  better  chosen.  Within  seventy- 
five  yards  of  the  tent  was  a  well-worn  bear  trail, 
where  the  brutes  had  passed  from  one  mountain  to 
the  other  for  years.  The  place  was  christened 
"  Camp  Bear  Trail,"  and  preparations  for  an  extended 
hunt  were  made. 

There  was  no  doubt  that  there  were  plenty  of  bears 
in  the  vicinity,  for  their  trails  could  be  seen  all 
about  the  place.     So  confident  were  Dyche  and  Brown 


THE  LAST  POT-SHOT.  45 

that  they  would  soon  get  a  bear  that  they  contented 
themselves  with  bacon  rather  than  risk  scaring  away 
the  big  game  by  a  shot  at  a  grouse  or  deer.  Every 
night  the  burros  were  brought  into  camp  and  tied 
for  fear  they  would  fall  a  prey  to  bruin.  In  a  few 
days  the  novelty  of  the  situation  wore  off  and  Dyche 
killed  a  deer,  not  caring  whether  the  shot  scared  a 
bear  or  not.  He  went  out  on  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain to  look  for  meat,  carrying  his  big  Sharp  and  a 
number  10  Colt  shot-gun  so  that  he  would  be  ready 
for  anything.  Hearing  a  noise  in  a  clump  of  wil- 
lows his  blood  almost  boiled  with  excitement,  for 
from  the  noise  he  was  sure  that  a  bear  was  coming. 
Suddenly  the  bushes  parted  and  a  big  mule  deer  buck 
trotted  out  into  the  opening  with  head  up  and  ready 
to  jump  at  the  slightest  sound.  He  was  on  the  steep 
hillside  fifty  yards  above  Dyche,  who  sent  a  load  of 
buckshot  into  him  and  the  animal  rolled  down  to 
within  thirty  feet  of  his  slayer. 

Bear-trails  were  followed  day  after  day  without 
ever  seeing  or  hearing  anything  of  the  animals.  An 
ambush  was  laid  for  a  deer  which  came  to  the  little 
lake  every  evening  for  water.  While  lying  in  wait 
a  band  of  the  animals  came  down  to  the  water's  edge 
to  drink.  When  they  were  well  bunched  and  not 
over  seventy-five  yards  away,  Dyche  discharged  "  Old 
Reliable,"  and  as  the  frightened  deer  ran  he  fired 
three  more  shots  after  them.  When  the  smoke 
cleared  away  he  found  that  he  had  done  that  which 
no  true  hunter  feels  proud  of.  He  had  allowed  his 
excitement  to  get  the  better  of  his  judgment,  and 
there,  as  the  result  of  his  four  shots,  lay  six  fine  deer. 


46  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

Four  had  seemingly  been  shot  through  at  the  first 
fire.  Dyche  was  asliamed  and  almost  vowed  to  give 
up  hunting  on  account  of  the  unwarranted  slaugh- 
ter. He  made  all  the  amends  in  his  power,  and 
every  pound  of  meat  and  all  the  skins  were  saved. 
Brown  went  down  the  trail  to  Harvey's  with  the 
meat.  In  his  whole  hunting  experience  thereafter 
this  served  as  a  good  lesson.  He  never  again  shot 
at  random  into  a  bunch  of  animals,  but  always 
singled  out  the  one  wanted  for  meat  or  a  specimen. 

The  first  night  after  Brown  went  down  with  the 
meat  a  big  bear  passed  along  the  trail,  leaving  a 
track  as  big  as  a  peck  measure.  Dyche  resolved  to 
see  where  that  bear  went  if  it  took  all  summer. 
With  a  light  lunch  in  his  pocket,  a  thin  rubber 
blanket,  some  matches,  a  hatchet,  his  rifle,  and  seven- 
teen cartridges  he  started  on  the  campaign.  The 
trail  was  fresh  and  the  bear  did  not  seem  to  know 
that  he  was  followed.  He  went  swinging  along, 
leaving  a  trail  that  could  be  followed  on  the  run. 
Here  he  had  turned  over  a  log  and  there  he  had 
scratched  up  the  earth  looking  for  roots  and  tender 
shoots.  He  wandered  around  in  an  apparently  aim- 
less manner,  and  Dyche  followed  every  track.  Here 
a  stream  had  been  crossed  and  the  water  was  still 
muddy  where  the  big  fellow  had  stopped  to  wallow. 
The  trail  led  into  a  deep  fir  forest  and  it  was  almost 
dusk  under  the  trees.  The  pines  interlaced  at  the 
top  and  the  ground  was  covered  with  a  thick  bed  of 
needles,  shredded  fir-cones  that  had  been  opened  by 
squirrels  looking  for  the  seeds,  and  leaves,  which 
formed  a  carpet  in  some  places  three  feet  thick.      In 


IN  AMBUSH.  47 

this  mass  of  debris  were  found  many  bear  beds, 
where  the  animals  had  scooped  out  great  hollows  and 
made  comfortable  sleeping-places.  Night  settled 
down  and  Dyche  was  at  last  compelled  to  give  up 
the  chase.  He  had  travelled  fully  fifteen  miles  over 
the  mountains  and  through  the  forest,  and  was  so 
tired  that  he  did  not  think  of  returning  to  camp,  but 
finding  a  sheltered  place  on  a  large  projecting  rock, 
he  spread  his  gossamer  blanket  as  a  wind-break,  and 
on  a  bed  of  spruce  and  fir  boughs,  with  a  blazing  fire 
at  his  feet,  he  tried  to  sleep.  He  was  tired,  but  sleep 
would  not  come.  He  would  fall  into  a  doze  and  then 
wake  with  a  start  from  dreaming  about  a  fight  with 
a  big  grizzly,  and  would  alternately  doze  and  build  up 
the  fire  until  morning  came.  At  early  dawn  he 
started  back  to  the  home  camp,  and  the  day  was 
spent  resting. 

Awaking  from  a  refreshing  sleep  next  morning, 
Dyche  saw  where  a  bear  had  come  over  the  trail, 
and,  to  show  his  contempt  for  the  hunters,  had  wal- 
lowed in  the  spring  from  which  they  got  their  drink- 
ing-water. Brown  returned  with  mail  and  provisions 
from  Harvey's  and  a  council  of  war  was  held.  It 
was  decided  to  make  an  ambush  and  wait  until  the 
bear  again  went  over  the  trail  and  then  kill  him. 
He  evidently  passed  along  in  the  night,  and  a  plat- 
form was  built  in  a  tree  near  the  trail. 

Darkness  found  Dyche  safely  ensconced  on  the 
platform,  prepared  for  an  all-night's  siege.  A  heavy 
overcoat  was  supplemented  by  a  blanket  and  a  trunk- 
strap  secured  him  to  the  tree  in  case  he  should  fall 
asleep.  The  rifle  and  shot-gun  were  within  easy  reach, 


48  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

and  it  would  have  been  a  bad  night  for  a  bear  had 
one  come  across  the  trail.  All  night  long,  shivering 
and  longing  for  daylight,  Dyche  sat  there,  but  never 
a  sound  of  bear  was  heard.  The  stillness  was  horrible. 
Not  an  owl  hooted  and  not  a  twig  was  snapped  by 
fox  or  wolf.  The  twittering  of  the  early  birds  at  last 
announced  the  approach  of  day,  and  Dyche  crawled 
down,  cold  and  benumbed,  and  made  his  way  to 
camp,  where  a  hot  breakfast  soon  reinvigourated  him. 
Again  and  still  again  was  this  ambush  laid.  A  band 
of  deer  went  over  the  trail,  and  then  a  fox  came  and 
smelled  the  bait  but  did  not  touch  it,  and  a  wildcat 
came  along  and  clawed  around,  but  went  on  without 
going  near  the  bait.  Dyche  let  them  all  go,  as  he 
did  not  want  to  shoot  and  run  the  risk  of  scaring 
away  a  bear.  But  no  bear  came.  Soon  after  sun- 
rise on  the  third  morning  Dyche  crawled  into  camp 
for  a  little  breakfast  and  then  hastened  back.  The 
bear  had  been  there  during  his  absence.  The  old 
fellow  evidently  came  along  a  few  seconds  after 
Dyche  left,  for  he  had  eaten  the  whole  of  the  bait 
which  had  been  left  near  the  trail,  and  then  had 
scratched  up  the  earth  near  by.  To  nish  the  per- 
formance he  had  wallowed  in  the  little  stream  and 
passed  on  over  the  mountain. 

Dyche  was  tired,  sleepy,  sore,  and  stiff,  but  this 
was  too  much  for  human  endurance  and  he  promptly 
started  on  the  broad  trail  left  by  the  animal.  The 
bear  went  along,  turning  over  logs,  stones,  and 
stumps,  looking  for  bugs.  Here  he  wallowed  in  a 
mud- hole  to  relievo  himself  from  fleas,  and  there  he 
scratched   up  the  earth  or  stretched  himself  up  on 


TOO  MUCH  OF  A  GOOD  THING.  49 

a  tree.  Dyche  could  not  catch  up  with  him,  and 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  returned  to  camp 
almost  worn  out.  A  big  buck  jumped  from  cover, 
but  he  let  the  animal  go.  A  light  supper,  and  a 
blank  until  dawn.  A  hot  breakfast  restored  him,  and 
after  a  whole  day  spent  about  the  camp  he  felt  like 
going  on  another  campaign.  A  fox  and  a  wildcat 
were  caught  in  traps  and  the  skins  taken  care  of,  and 
then  Dyche  started  out  to  look  at  some  traps,  expect- 
ing to  be  gone  about  an  hour.  It  was  late  in  the 
afternoon  when  he  returned,  and  from  the  flush  in  his 
face  and  his  general  excitement  Brown  knew  that  he 
had  seen  bears.  Dyche  had  had  a  most  wonderful 
adventure,  and  was  so  wild  over  it  that  he  could 
hardly  wait  until  after  supper  to  tell  his  story. 

''  I  got  to  the  fox-traps,  and  as  I  was  looking  around 
I  saw  a  large  bear-trail  that  was  very  fresh.  The 
bears  had  been  here,  there,  and  everywhere.  The 
ground  was  dug  up  as  if  a  drove  of  hogs  had  been 
rooting  and  overturning  the  logs  and  stones. 
There  must  have  been  a  herd  of  them,  for  paths  led 
through  the  woods  in  a  dozen  different  directions. 
I  took  a  large  circuit  in  order  to  find  which  way  they 
had  gone.  I  soon  found  the  main  trail,  which  was 
as  easily  followed  as  if  a  herd  of  cattle  had  been 
along  there.  It  went  through  a  number  of  grassy 
parks,  down  a  small  stream,  up  another,  and  then 
over  a  mountain.  I  followed  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
expecting  every  minute  to  see  them.  They  spread 
destruction  in  their  path.  Logs,  stumps,  and  stones 
were  turned  over  and  ant-hills  torn  to  pieces.  A 
choke-cherry    patch    v^^as    stripped  of    berries   and 


50  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

leaves.  The  buslies  were  torn  and  stripped  and  the 
tops  chewed  off,  presenting  a  sorrowful  sight.  I 
determined  to  get  back  to  camp  and  start  to-morrow 
with  five  days'  rations  in  my  haversack,  and  find 
those  bears  or  die  in  the  attempt. 

"I  wandered  along  revolving  my  plans  in  my 
mind,  and  came  out  of  the  big  woods  on  a  mesa 
about  two  hundred  yards  wide,  flanked  on  one  side 
by  a  heavy  forest,  while  on  the  other  was  a  sheer 
fall  of  several  hundred  feet.  It  was  a  beautiful 
place,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  an  amusing  occupa- 
tion to  roll  stones  down  the  canon,  but  was  too  tired 
to  put  the  idea  into  practice.  I  was  walking  slowly 
along,  looking  now  and  then  towards  the  woods,  but 
not  thinking  of  seeing  anything,  when  suddenly 
there  appeared  at  the  edge  of  the  timber  a  number 
of  moving  objects.  I  could  not  make  out  what  they 
were,  but  there  was  such  a  number  of  them  I  con- 
cluded they  must  be  goats.  Mexicans  sometimes 
bring  goats  up  the  Pecos  River  into  this  country,  and 
I  thought  a  herd  might  have  been  driven  out  of  the 
regular  trail.  As  they  appeared  to  be  coming 
towards  me  I  waited  and  soon  got  another  glimpse 
of  them  about  three  hundred  yards  away.  They 
were  among  the  trees,  and  the  sun  through  the  leaves 
gave  them  a  spotted  appearance  which  convinced  me 
that  they  were  goats,  for  many  of  the  Mexican  goats 
are  spotted.  I  could  not  see  the  herder  and  stood 
perfectly  still  waiting  for  them  to  get  nearer.  Sud- 
denly there  came  out  of  the  forest,  directly  to  the 
west  of  me  and  not  over  seventy  yards  away,  a  huge 
grizzly  bear. 


A  POSTPONEMENT  OF  ACTION.  51 

"Before  I  could  realise  what  had  happened,  out 
came  another,  then  a  third,  a  fourth,  a  fifth,  a  sixth, 
and  a  seventh.  Just  think  of  it,  seven  big  bears  in 
sight  all  at  once !  I  think  there  were  four  more  which 
I  saw,  making  eleven  in  all  in  that  band.  I  knew 
I  was  in  a  most  desperate  situation.  On  one  hand 
was  a  bottomless  precipice  and  on  the  other  a  herd  of 
the  most  ferocious  animals  which  range  the  moun- 
tains. How  the  sweat  did  roll  off  of  my  face !  There 
was  only  one  thing  to  do,  and  I  did  it  to  perfection. 
That  was  to  stand  perfectly  still  and  let  those  bears 
go  about  their  business.  I  was  hunting  bears,  but 
not  these  particular  bears.  There  I  stood  in  per- 
fectly plain  view  of  those  animals,  but  they  did  not 
see  me.  They  were  walking  fast,  and  I  had  a  splen- 
did opportunity  to  observe  their  mode  of  travel  as 
they  passed  on. 

"I  no  longer  wondered  at  my  not  being  able  to 
overtake  them  on  the  trail.  They  went  swinging 
along  in  a  sort  of  shambling  trot  or  canter  almost  as 
fast  as  the  gait  of  a  horse.  Some  would  stop  for  a 
second  at  a  time,  turning  over  logs  and  stones,  and 
then  hurry  on  to  overtake  the  band,  which  moved 
right  along. 

"  As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight  in  the  woods 
to  the  southwest  of  me,  I  hastened  to  assure  myself 
that  I  was  still  alive  and  wiped  the  sweat  from  my 
face.  I  could  easily  have  put  a  bullet  through  any 
of  them,  but  what  would  have  happened  then?  I 
might  have  been  set  upon  by  the  whole  gang  and 
would  not  have  made  a  fair  meal  for  one  of  them.  I 
made  haste  to  get  into  the  woods  and  tried  to  head 


53  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

them  off.  I  wanted  to  get  a  shot  at  them  where  I 
could  get  shelter  in  the  trees  if  they  attacked  me. 
They  unintentionally  outwitted  me,  however,  and 
went  up  a  ridge  while  I  was  watching  a  stream." 

"Well,  I  have  a  scheme,"  said  Brown.  "Let  me 
go  back  to  Harvey's  and  then  down  to  Las  Vegas 
and  get  a  big  bear-trap,  and  we  will  get  a  bear,  sure. 
It  will  take  some  time,  but  it  seems  that  we  are 
spending  more  time  than  anything  else,  anyway." 

"  Well,  as  we  need  more  provisions  I  guess  you'd 
better  make  the  trip  to-morrow, "  was  the  reply,  and 
so  it  was  settled.  Brown  got  an  early  start  next 
morning  and  Dyche  was  left  alone.  The  trip  would 
take  about  ten  days  to  go  and  return.  Dyche  started 
for  the  woods  to  see  if  he  could  get  another  look  at 
his  bear  herd. 

On  the  evening  of  the  ninth  daj^  after  Brown  left, 
Dyche  heard  the  song  of  a  burro  down  the  canon  and 
he  hastened  to  get  a  warm  supper  for  Brown,  who 
he  knew  was  coming.  From  the  back  of  old  Reuben 
dangled  a  fifty-pound  bear-trap.  Hot  coffee,  biscuit, 
and  broiled  steak  were  soon  smoking  on  the  table, 
and  Brown  went  ravenously  to  work  on  them. 

"This  venison  is  mighty  tough,"  he  remarked. 
"  It  must  have  been  one  of  the  oldest  bucks  in  the 
mountains." 

"Take  another  piece,"  said  Dyche. 

"  It  will  be  better  after  we've  had  it  a  week  or 
two,"  was  Brown's  comment,  as  he  took  an  extra 
tough  bite.  "What  kind  of  meat  is  this,  anyhow? 
It's  the  toughest  venison  I  ever  tasted." 

"Maybe  it's  fox." 


A  MONARCH  DETHRONED.  53 

"  Fox  nothing.  It's  more  like  burro-meat,  I  should 
say.  I  didn't  leave  any  of  the  jacks  here  when  I 
went  away,  did  I?" 

Dyche  could  keep  his  story  no  longer  and  burst  out 
with :  "It's  bear-meat,  man.  A  regular  old  grizzly 
at  that." 

"What?  got  a  bear!  Well,  if  this  is  a  piece  of 
him  it  must  have  been  the  one  old  Noah  had  in  the 
ark.  Well,  I'm  glad  he  didn't  get  you.  Where's 
the  skin?     How  did  you  get  him?" 

"  The  day  you  left  camp  I  started  out  to  look  at 
that  big  trail  where  my  herd  went  along.  I  thought 
there  might  be  some  satisfaction  in  looking  at  the 
track  if  I  couldn't  see  the  bears.  The  trail  was  a 
day  old,  but  I  followed  along  without  exactly  know- 
ing why.  After  following  it  for  miles  I  started  back 
to  camp,  and  reached  a  grassy  slope  on  the  side  of  the 
mountain  and  sat  down  to  rest  in  the  edge  of  it. 
There  was  a  willow  patch  in  front,  and  to  the  east 
of  me  and  across  from  the  willows  was  an  almost 
impenetrable  forest  of  spruce  trees.  Flowing  through 
an  opening  in  this  forest  was  a  little  stream  which 
joined  another  rivulet  flowing  from  the  willows.  As 
I  sat  on  a  log  looking  across  this  stream  at  the  spruce 
forest  I  saw  something  moving  among  the  trees,  and 
from  the  glimpse  I  got  of  it  among  the  spruce 
branches  I  thought  it  was  a  deer.  I  watched  very 
carefully,  expecting  to  see  a  big  mule  buck  step  out 
into  the  opening. 

"  To  my  great  astonishment  a  huge  grizzly  bear 
stepped  from  the  forest  at  the  opening  made  by  the 
little  stream.     What  a  monster  he  was !     He  must 


54  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

have  been  as  big  as  a  cow.  The  wind  was  in  his 
favour,  and  getting  scent  of  me  he  placed  his  front  feet 
on  a  log  and  began  sniffing  the  air.  I  could  see  his 
big  head  going  up  and  down,  and  must  confess  that 
I  felt  a  little  chill  run  over  me.  The  old  Sharp's 
rifle  always  seemed  so  big  and  heavy  before,  but  now 
I  wished  it  was  a  cannon.  I  took  the  best  aim  pos- 
sible, holding  my  breath  to  prevent  muscular  move- 
ment, and  remembering  the  advice  of  my  father  to 
always  see  that  the  sights  were  on  the  gun  before 
pulling  trigger,  then  I  fired.  The  gun  belched  forth 
its  load  with  a  roar  which  was  echoed  by  another 
roar  from  the  bear. 

"Here  he  came  growling,  rolling,  tumbling,  fall- 
ing, jumping,  and  bellowing,  making  a  terrific  noise. 
I  slipped  off  my  shoes,  reloaded  the  gun,  placed  a 
handful  of  cartridges  in  the  crown  of  my  hat  by  my 
side,  and  waited.  I  thought  the  whole  gang  might 
appear  and  wanted  to  be  ready  for  any  emergency. 
The  old  fellow  came  on  towards  me,  and  I  determined 
that  if  he  ever  crossed  that  stream  I  would  give  him 
another  520-grain  bullet.  He  would  get  tangled  up 
in  a  fallen  spruce  tree  and  would  tear  himself  loose 
in  a  most  wonderful  manner.  Now  he  was  in  the 
willows,  rolling  and  tumbling  and  biting  everything 
that  was  in  his  way. 

"His  strength  and  activity  were  simply  won- 
derful. One  blow  of  his  mighty  paw  would  have 
killed  the  greatest  prize-fighter  that  ever  lived. 
I  have  heard  stories  of  men  killing  grizzly  bears 
with  their  knives,  but  I  don't  think  it  possible 
for  twenty   men    to  have  stood    before    that  bear 


A  MONARCH  DETHRONED.  65 

in  his  death-agony.  I  could  now  see  him  very 
plainly,  and  could  see  that  he  was  covered  with  blood 
and  was  getting  weaker  and  weaker  every  minute  as 
he  came  on  towards  me.  Just  as  he  reached  the  edge 
of  the  water  he  spread  himself  out  on  all-fours,  and 
there  continued  throwing  up  his  head,  uttering  most 
horrible  groans  and  guttural  grunts,  while  I  sat  cold 
and  spell- bound  under  the  great  excitement.  At 
last  he  died,  seventeen  minutes  after  he  had  received 
a  ball  which  would  have  been  instant  death  to  an  ox. 
Then  I  got  up  and  went  over  to  where  he  lay. 

"  He  was  a  monster  indeed.  Not  fat  but  so  mus- 
cular. Streams  of  blood  were  running  from  his  mouth 
where  he  had  broken  his  great  teeth  in  his  death- 
agony.  I  was  under  intense  excitement,  but  I  noticed 
that  his  legs  were  black  while  his  sides  and  back 
were  of  a  tawny  tint.  His  tail  was  very  short,  so 
short,  in  fact,  that  he  could  not  even  sit  down  upon  it. 

"  It  had  been  raining  all  day,  but  I  never  noticed 
it  as  I  sat  on  the  log  watching  the  dying  throes  of 
the  bear.  I  must  confess  that  I  had  a  pang  of  re- 
morse as  I  looked  down  at  the  dead  monster.  I  had 
at  last  outwitted  one  of  the  giants  of  the  forest,  but 
in  his  death  I  had  seen  the  qualities  of  a  grand  war- 
rior. After  finishing  my  examination  of  the  big 
fellow  I  turned  about  and  went  to  camp,  leaving 
him  just  where  he  had  fallen.  I  reached  the  camp 
at  dark,  and  would  have  given  a  good  deal  if  you 
had  been  here  to  share  the  enthusiasm  with  me. 

"  There  was  no  sleep  for  me  that  night.  I  went 
over  that  fearful  struggle  again  and  again,  and 
when  I  dozed  off  I  would  wake  with  a  start  from  a 
5 


56  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

frightful  dream  of  the  bear.  Next  morning  I  was 
rested  but  not  refreshed,  and  after  a  hurried  break- 
fast I  hastened  down  the  canon  where  I  had  left  the 
dead  bear.  It  seemed  at  times  as  if  it  might  all  be  a 
dream — but  no,  when  I  got  to  the  spot  there  he  lay, 
just  as  I  had  left  him  the  night  before,  dead  and 
cold.  Having  spent  about  two  hours  in  taking 
seventy  measurements  for  future  reference,  I  skinned 
him.  I  found  that  the  old  fellow  had  been  shot  be- 
fore, for  there  were  two  bullets  about  the  size  of  a 
forty-four  Winchester  imbedded  in  his  body,  one  in 
his  hip  and  the  other  in  the  shoulder.  My  ball  hit 
him  fairly  in  the  neck,  cutting  the  jugular  vein  and 
passed  entirel}^  through  the  body,  coming  out  about 
six  inches  from  the  tail  near  the  spine. 

"  I  was  almost  worn  out,  but  I  carried  the  meat, 
skin,  and  head  to  the  big  snow-drift  and  buried  them, 
and  dragged  myself  to  camp,  where  I  ate  a  light 
supper  and  then  rolled  up  in  my  blankets  and  slept 
until  dawn  next  morning." 

During  the  succeeding  days  Dyche  thoroughly 
dressed  the  skin.  All  fat  and  flesh  were  removed 
and  the  feet  skinned  down  to  the  very  toe-nails,  and 
all  ligaments  removed  from  the  bones.  A  prepara- 
tion of  one  part  alum  and  four  parts  salt  was  now 
rubbed  all  over  the  skin.  The  feet  and  head  were 
folded  in  and  then  saturated  with  a  strong  solution 
of  the  mixture.  This  operation  was  repeated  in 
twenty-four  hours  and  then  again  in  twenty-four, 
and  the  skin  was  ready  to  be  hung  up  to  dry. 


"  They  are  sure  good  bear  knives." 


CHAPTER  V. 

Making  a  New  Trail— The  Storm  on  the  Mountain-Top— 
Neither  Bear  nor  Elk— A  Journey  in  Utter  Darkness- 
Catching  Foxes — Unwelcome  Visitors — Brown's  Ava- 
lanche—The Bear  was  Handicapped— An  Experience  with 
Ants  and  Fleas. 

;FTER  several  days  of  fruitless  search  for 
more  bears,  it  was  decided  that  the  ani- 
mals had  left  that  particular  part  of  the 
mountains,  and  the  naturalists  concluded 
to  move  camp.  Cacheing  the  surplus  meat  in  a 
snow-drift  and  packing  the  camp  equipment  on  the 
backs  of  the  burros,  the  little  animals  were  headed 
towards  the  north  star,  and  the  party  went  through 
the  woods,  making  a  new  trail.  They  did  not  have 
the  least  idea  of  where  they  were  going,  except  that 
they  wanted  better  hunting-grounds,  where  they 
might  possibly  get  bear  or  elk.  It  was  said  in  that 
vicinity  that  elk  had  been  seen  on  the  ridge  between 
the  Pecos  and  Canadian  rivers,  and  this  ridge  was 
made  the  objective  point.  Their  way  led  through 
heavy  spruce  timber  which  lined  the  ridge,  and  about 
noon  they  reached  an  open  mesa  on  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  which  had  been  burned  over.  For  this 
reason  travelling  was  difficult  and  they  were  com- 
pelled to  cut  their  way. 

While  working  through  this  down  timber,  two  big 
57 


58  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

mule  bucks  jumped  up  and  started  to  run,  going  over 
and  under  the  logs  with  remarkable  ease.  Getting 
sight  of  one  of  the  bucks  as  it  was  going  between  the 
trees  about  three  hundred  yards  away,  Dyche  fired, 
but  with  no  apparent  result.  Getting  another  op- 
portunity he  shot  again.  The  burros  were  left  and 
search  made  in  all  directions  for  the  deer ;  but  noth- 
ing could  be  found,  and  Dyche  was  just  about  to  give 
up  when  Brown,  who  had  gone  on  about  seventy 
yards  farther,  shouted : 

"  Here !  here !  here's  your  old  buck,  dead  as  a  door- 
nail." 

Pushing  on  up  the  mountain,  camp  was  made  at 
dark  by  a  spring  on  the  west  slope.  This  place  re- 
ceived the  name  of  Camp  Wild  Buck,  but,  owing 
to  later  developments,  was  named  Hungry  Canon. 
Cacheing  the  greater  portion  of  the  venison  in  a  snow- 
drift the  next  morning,  they  travelled  three  or  four 
miles  north  until  the  ridge  was  reached.  This  was 
the  watershed  between  the  Rio  Grande  on  the  south 
and  the  Arkansas  on  the  north,  and  led  towards  the 
Jicorilla  Mountains,  gradually  rising  and  becoming 
narrower  as  it  extended  above  timber-line. 

At  one  o'clock  they  reached  a  high  point  in  the 
country,  and  from  this  place  was  seen  one  of  the 
grandest  sights  in  the  high  ranges.  Off  to  the  west 
was  a  vast  ocean  of  mountain-tops,  the  timbered 
slopes  being  surrounded  by  high  peaks,  running 
above  timber-line. 

The  river,  winding  in  the  canon  far  below,  was  a 
mere  thread  of  silver  among  the  trees,  thousands  of 
feet  down.     Through  a  narrow  opening  of  the  moun- 


THE  STORM  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN-TOP.  59 

tains  was  a  view  of  the  plains  far  to  the  east,  which, 
with  the  rough,  rock-girt  frame,  presented  a  picture 
as  of  the  field  of  the  cloth  of  gold.  The  purple  hills 
made  a  rich,  dark  foreground,  while  the  golden  sun- 
light flecked  the  prairie  with  the  colour  of  living 
fire. 

So  entranced  with  the  scene  were  they  that  the 
flight  of  time  was  forgotten,  and  when  they  returned 
to  mundane  things  they  realised  that  if  they  wished 
to  camp  where  there  was  grass  and  water,  they  would 
have  to  be  finding  a  way  down  to  timber-line.  Spend- 
ing an  hour  in  this  effort,  they  again  glanced  at  the 
beautiful  scene ;  but  now  all  was  changed.  A  mass 
of  clouds,  through  which  lightning  played,  and  which 
grew  denser  and  denser  as  it  came,  was  rolling  up 
the  valley  of  the  Pecos.  Flash  after  flash  could  be 
seen,  and  then  faintly  came  the  sound  of  thunder. 

The  sight  was  interesting,  and  as  they  watched  it 
their  attention  was  called  to  the  other  side  of  the 
range  by  an  answering  reverberation.  Looking 
down  the  Canadian  valley,  to  the  north,  they  saw 
another  storm-cloud  rolling  towards  the  ridge  upon 
which  they  stood.  As  the  storms  approached  nearer 
and  nearer  they  discovered  that  they  would  soon  be 
in  the  midst  of  a  battle  of  the  elements. 

The  sky  became  overcast  and  it  grew  dark.  The 
play  of  lightning  became  fiercer  and  fiercer  on  both 
sides,  and  the  peals  of  thunder  soon  merged  into  one 
continuous  roar.  Peal  was  answered  by  peal,  and 
the  echoes  took  up  the  terrible  sound  and  sent  it  on 
and  on  until  all  space  seemed  filled  with  the  tumul- 
tuous noise.     There  came  a  gust  of  wind,  and  then 


60  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

for  a  second  a  noiseless  calm  was  over  all.  Then  the 
two  clouds  rushed  to  the  top  of  the  intervening  ridge, 
and  the  space  between  them  seemed  filled  with  one 
continuous  sheet  of  flame.  The  whole  mountain  was 
the  battle-ground  and  heavenly  fire  the  weapons  in 
this  awful  contest  of  the  elements.  Lightning 
flashed  through  the  air  in  all  directions.  Rocks  rolled 
down  the  side  of  the  mountain,  while  a  hail-storm  sent 
missiles  over  the  valley.  The  burros  huddled  to- 
gether and  trembled  at  the  raging  of  the  elements, 
while  Dyche  and  Brown  threw  themselves  flat  on  the 
ground  and  sought  the  shelter  afforded  by  the  jut- 
ting rocks. 

Gradually  the  uproar  ceased.  The  hail  continued 
to  fall  until  the  whole  mountain-top  was  covered 
to  a  depth  of  two  or  three  inches.  It  was  some 
minutes  before  the  storm,  now  broken  into  numerous 
smaller  ones,  left  the  mountain  and  permitted  the 
naturalists  to  start  down  to  timber  and  shelter. 

Within  an  hour  from  the  time  the  storm  began, 
the  whole  country  was  smiling  as  if  nothing  had  ever 
occurred  to  mar  its  serenity.  Not  a  breath  of  wind 
ruffled  the  trees.  Far  down  the  mountain  appeared 
the  little  lake,  no  longer  vexed  by  the  wind,  and 
picturing  on  its  breast  the  wooded  hills.  A  pale 
blue  haze  hung  over  everything,  and  covered  the 
landscape  with  a  veil  which,  like  distance,  lent  en- 
chantment to  the  view. 

A  few  days  spent  here  proved  that  there  was 
neither  bear  nor  elk  in  this  part  of  the  country,  and 
camp  was  moved,  the  party  going  in  an  easterly  di- 
rection and  travelling  all  day  through  a  wilderness  of 


NEITHER  BEAR  NOR  ELK.  61 

down  timber  until  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when 
a  little  park  was  reached.  The  whole  space  in  the 
park  was  covered  with  grass  and  beautiful  flowers, 
and,  darting  here  and  there  through  the  opening, 
were  what  appeared  to  be  tiny  balls  of  fire.  At  first 
Brown  and  Dyche  were  completely  mystified,  but  an 
examination  showed  these  fire-balls  to  be  hundreds  of 
rufous  humming-birds  darting  among  the  blossoms. 
They  whirled  and  flashed  through  the  air,  and  the 
whirring  of  their  wings  made  music  like  that  of 
wind  among  the  trees.  Camp  Humming-Bird,  the 
place  was  called.  After  a  day's  rest  it  was  deter- 
mined to  go  back  to  the  other  side  of  the  range  and 
see  what  could  be  found  in  the  Canadian  valley. 

The  top  of  the  range  was  reached  by  noon.  The 
place  where  the  dreadful  storm  had  raged  a  few  days 
before  was  now  peaceful.  The  atmosphere  was  so 
clear  that  the  distant  mountains,  seventy-five  and  a 
hundred  miles  away,  seemed  to  lie  within  easy  walk- 
ing distance.  At  nightfall  a  fine,  perfectly  wild, 
iron-gray  horse,  which  had  evidently  broken  away 
from  the  confinement  of  civilisation,  was  seen  in  the 
timber.  This  incident  was  sufficient  to  give  the  name 
of  Wild  Horse  Camp  to  the  spot,  the  tent  being 
pitched  by  the  side  of  a  large  snow-drift. 

Late  next  afternoon  Dyche  went  for  a  little  hunt. 
As  he  passed  through  a  willow  park  two  bucks 
jumped  and  ran  through  a  clump  of  trees.  He  took  a 
flying  shot  as  they  disappeared,  and  as  only  one 
c^me  out  on  the  other  side,  Dyche  was  sure  he  had 
not  made  a  miss.  The  buck  jumped  up  on  the  side 
of  the  hill,  and  stood  as  if  waiting  for  its  companion. 


62  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

Dyche  trained  the  rifle  across  a  log  and  fired  at  the 
deer,  fully  three  hundred  yards  away.  The  buck 
made  several  awkward  jumps,  but  did  not  run. 
Again  and  again  he  shot,  but  each  time  the  deer 
would  jump  a  little,  but  would  not  leave.  The  sev- 
enth shot  brought  the  animal  to  its  knees,  and  Dyche 
made  his  way  to  it.  He  found  that  one,  perhaps  the 
first,  ball  had  taken  off  the  animal's  horns,  and  so 
confused  it  that  it  did  not  run.  One  ball  had  creased 
the  withers,  another  cut  the  brisket,  while  the  last 
had  broken  both  the  fore-legs. 

Brown,  hearing  so  much  firing,  put  the  pack-sad- 
dles on  all  the  burros,  for  he  had  never  known 
Dyche  to  shoot  more  than  once  or  twice,  and  supposed 
that  he  had  a  large  supply  of  game.  The  camp  was 
in  a  sort  of  horseshoe  inlet  in  the  mountains,  and 
this  peculiar  formation  caused  the  echoes  to  come 
from  many  different  directions.  The  result  was 
that  Brown  started  off  almost  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion from  the  spot  where  Dyche  had  done  his  shoot- 
ing. Tired  of  waiting,  Dyche  started  to  carry  the 
deer,  and  had  proceeded  some  distance  before  Brown 
reached  him.  Night  came  on  rapidly,  and  a  dense 
fog  or  cloud  settled  down  on  the  mountain.  They 
were  over  a  mile  from  camp,  and  it  was  dark  and 
raining.  Dyche  wanted  to  leave  the  deer  and  find 
the  tent,  but  Brown  objected.  He  said  he  wanted 
venison  for  supper,  and  would  have  that  deer  in  camp 
if  it  took  all  night.  The  darkness  was  so  intense 
that  the  donkeys  would  not  travel,  and  Brown  was 
compelled  to  go  ahead  while  Dyche  followed  in  the 
rear,  holding  to  a  burro's  tail  to  keep  from  getting 


A  JOURNEY  IN  DARKNESS.  63 

lost.  On  they  went,  stumbling  and  falling,  the  deer 
slipping  from  the  pack-saddle  and  causing  no  end  of 
trouble,  until  the  whole  party  was  almost  exhausted. 
The  deer  fell  off  so  often  that  Dyche  insisted  that  it 
should  be  left,  but  Brown  was  obstinate  and  took  it 
on  his  shoulders,  saying  that  he  must  have  venison 
for  supper,  and  was  not  going  to  let  a  little  thing  like 
that  get  the  best  of  him.  They  finally  reached  the 
opening  where  the  tent  had  been  placed,  but  they  had 
no  idea  where  it  was,  and  the  rain  was  falling  in  such 
torrents  that  they  could  not  see  their  hands  before 
their  eyes. 

"  You  stay  with  the  donkeys,  and  I  will  find  the 
tent,"  said  Brown;  and  leaving  Dyche  he  started  off 
through  the  darkness.  Ever  and  anon  he  called  to 
keep  his  bearings,  and  then  his  calls  became  faint, 
and  at  last  he  was  out  of  hearing.  Dyche  tried 
to  start  a  fire,  but  everything  was  soaking  wet, 
and  all  his  efforts  were  fruitless.  Brown  returned 
after  a  time  and  announced  that  he  had  found 
the  tent.  They  travelled  about  an  hour,  and 
then  Brown  began  to  wonder  what  was  the  matter. 
He  had  placed  a  lighted  candle  upright  on  the  floor, 
so  that  the  light  could  be  seen.  He  made  another 
excursion  and  found  the  tent,  discovering  that  the 
candle  had  fallen  down  in  the  mud  and  the  light  had 
gone  out.  It  was  late,  but  a  roaring  fire  soon  dried 
and  warmed  their  clothing,  while  a  supper  on  the 
venison  refreshed  the  inner  man;  and  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning  they  rolled  into  bed  and  slept  the 
sleep  which  follows  exhaustion. 

A  whole  day's  rest  next  day,   Sunday,  prepared 


64  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

them  for  further  exertions.  The  day  following, 
Dyche  was  working  with  his  gun,  trying  to  extract 
an  obstinate  shell,  when  Brown  came  hurrying  into 
the  tent  with  his  eyes  dilated  and  his  whole  frame 
shaking  with  excitement.  He  pointed  to  a  bunch  of 
trees  near  by,  where  Dyche  saw  a  magnificent  buck, 
about  seventy-five  yards  away.  Dropping  on  one 
knee  he  fired  just  as  the  animal  was  disappearing 
amid  the  timber.  The  buck  was  found  dead  a  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  place  where  he  was  shot. 

It  was  evident  that  in  this  part  of  the  country  there 
was  little  game  which  they  wanted,  and  next  day  the 
skins  and  venison  were  packed  on  the  donkeys  and 
the  back  trail  taken.  At  Camp  Wild  Horse  a  stop 
was  made,  and  Brown  took  the  donkeys  and  with  all 
the  spare  meat  started  for  Harvey's  ranch,  leaving 
Dyche  alone  in  the  mountains.  To  while  away  the 
time  during  the  seven  days  of  Brown's  absence, 
Dyche  amused  himself  with  trap-setting.  He  saw 
some  martens  catching  conies  in  the  rocks  and  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  two  of  them.  He  carried  the  big 
bear- trap  down  into  the  canon  and  set  it,  and  went 
every  morning  and  evening  to  see  it.  A  V-shaped 
pen  of  logs  was  made  and  the  trap  set  in  this.  Foxes 
were  cunning  enough  to  climb  over  the  logs  and  eat 
the  bait.  To  prevent  this  the  top  of  the  pen  was  cov- 
ered with  brush,  and  then  the  foxes  dug  holes  under 
the  logs.  Dyche  now  had  a  time  of  it  to  outwit  the 
little  animals.  He  set  traps  around  the  logs,  but  the 
foxes  evaded  them.  Then  he  set  traps  away  from  the 
pen  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  catching  the  robbers. 

Six  days  had  passed  in  this  way,  and  on  the  morn- 


UNWELCOME  VISITORS.  65 

iiig  of  the  seventh  Dyche  had  started  for  the  bear- trap, 
when  he  saw  Brown  coming  up  the  canon. 

"  How  did  you  get  here  so  early  in  the  morning?  " 
was  the  greeting. 

"  I  got  within  half  a  mile  of  camp  last  night  before 
sundown,  but  clouds  and  fog  settled  down  so  that  I 
did  not  like  to  risk  coming  on  in  the  dark." 

Brown  had  the  mail  and  plenty  of  provisions,  which 
were  badly  needed,  for  Dyche  had  had  only  two 
biscuits  since  Brown  left. 

"  I  had  visitors  while  you  were  away,"  said  Dyche, 
after  they  had  eaten  breakfast.  "  You  remember  that 
camp-fire  that  we  saw  down  in  the  valley?  Well,  I 
think  the  fellows  who  built  that  fire  came  up  to  see 
me,  and  from  their  appearance  and  actions  I  think 
they  meant  no  good.  I  saw  them  coming  and  made 
it  a  point  to  be  cleaning  the  guns  when  they  came  up. 
They  talked  Spanish,  but  when  they  found  that  I 
could  not  understand  it  they  talked  good  English  and 
asked  me  many  questions  about  my  business  and  why 
I  was  up  here.  I  told  them  the  truth,  showed  my 
specimens,  and  convinced  them  that  I  was  all  right, 
and  at  last  they  went  away.  I  was  not  at  all  satisfied 
with  the  interview,  and  when  they  had  gone  I  started 
to  hunt  and  skirted  along  the  edge  of  the  woods 
where  I  could  watch  them.  They  went  down  into 
the  valley  and  met  another  man  who  was  taking 
care  of  the  horses.  I  think  they  were  a  band  of 
horse-thieves,  and  I  lay  behind  a  log  all  that  night, 
and  if  they  had  come  fooling  around  they  would  have 
had  a  reception  which  they  did  not  bargain  for." 

A  fine  white-tailed  buck  which  had  been  eluding 


66  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

Dyche  for  a  week  fell  victim  to  his  gun  that  after- 
noon, and  next  morning  Brown  took  the  shot-gun  and 
went  down  the  canon.  Dyche  was  looking  after  his 
fox-traps,  and  had  just  found  one  in  which  there  was 
a  beautiful  brown  fox  when  he  heard  a  report  down 
the  canon  as  if  from  a  cannon.  Brown  had  evidently 
touched  off  "  Old  Vesuvius,"  as  the  shot-gun  had  been 
christened  by  the  cowboys.  Dyche  gave  a  signal 
but  got  no  answer.  Darkness  came,  but  no  Brown. 
Becoming  much  alarmed  lest  some  accident  had  be- 
fallen his  companion,  Dyche  hurried  down  the  canon, 
calling  now  and  then  but  getting  no  response. 
About  two  hundred  yards  from  camp  he  heard  a 
slight  noise  and  called  out.  A  muffled  answer  was 
returned,  and  then  he  was  sure  Brown  had  been  badly 
hurt.  Hastening  down  he  found  Brown  staggering 
up  the  mountain  with  a  big  doe  on  his  back.  His 
face  was  black  and  blue  and  his  clothing  covered 
with  hair  and  blood.  A  deep  scratch  ran  along  the 
side  of  his  nose,  and  taken  altogether  he  was  a  most 
dilapidated-looking  object.  He  had  fired  both  bar- 
rels of  the  gun  at  once,  and,  being  unused  to  such 
a  heavy  charge,  had  been  kicked  over  by  the  heavily 
loaded  weapon. 

Next  day  Brown  took  his  insect-net  and  Dyche 
his  rifle  and  they  wandered  off  looking  for  what  they 
could  find.  Dyche  was  first  to  return  and  had  supper 
ready  when  Brown  reached  camp.  Brown  had  a 
good  story  to  tell  and  began  while  they  were  still 
eating : 

"Say,  Prof,  do  you  remember  that  old  crag  of 
loose  rock  we  passed  as  we  came  into  this  canon? 


BROWN'S  AVALANCHE.  67 

Well,  I  was  looking  for  insects  around  in  that  vicinity, 
but  could  not  find  many.  After  fooling  around  try- 
ing to  kill  some  grouse  with  rocks,  I  got  one  by 
hitting  it  on  the  head.  I  climbed  up  on  that  crag. 
There  was  a  big  rocky  mass  which  was  split  off  from 
the  rest,  and  I  got  a  pole  and  tried  to  pry  it  off.  I 
worked  for  nearly  two  hours,  for  I  wanted  to  see  it 
go  down  the  mountain.  At  last  it  got  loose,  and  how 
it  did  go!  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  it.  The 
big  rock  started  a  hundred  others  and  this  hundred  a 
thousand  more.  You  would  have  thought  the  whole 
top  of  the  mountain  had  fallen.  It  frightened  me  as 
I  thought  there  might  possibly  have  been  someone  at 
the  bottom  of  the  canon.  A  cloud  of  dust  and  smoke 
arose  which  had  the  smell  of  the  infernal  regions, 
while  the  noise  was  terrific." 

When  he  finished  his  story  Dyche,  who  had  been 
listening  quietly,  said  he  had  had  an  adventure  also. 

"  When  I  left  camp  I  went  north  and  then  circled 
east  and  worked  along  the  edge  of  the  canon.  Seeing 
about  a  dozen  big  mule  bucks  in  a  band,  I  started  to 
stalk  them.  Working  very  slowly  and  crawling 
carefully,  I  got  within  two  hundred  yards  of  them. 
There  was  a  bunch  of  scrubby  spruce  trees  about  sev- 
enty-five yards  to  the  east  of  them  on  the  edge  of  the 
canon,  and  I  determined  to  get  to  that  clump,  where  I 
could  have  my  pick  of  the  band.  Leaving  my  hat 
and  shoes  behind,  I  worked  my  way  along  and  got 
almost  there.  Twenty-five  yards  more  and  the  trees 
would  be  reached.  I  stopped  to  get  my  breath  a  little, 
when  a  regular  earthquake  seemed  to  break  loose. 
An  immense  crag  away  up  on  the  side  of  the  moun- 


68  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

tain  broke  from  its  place  and  came  down  into  the 
canon.  The  first  stone  started  hundreds  of  others, 
and  these  hundreds  started  thousands  more,  and  they 
came  down  with  a  terrible  noise.  Dust  and  smoke 
arose  and  a  smell  as  of  the  infernal  regions  came  from 
the  bottom.  When  it  was  over  the  deer  were  gone 
and  I  came  back  to  camp." 

As  Dyche  proceeded  with  his  story  and  ended  in 
almost  the  very  words  of  Brown,  the  latter  stopped 
eating,  his  jaw  dropped,  and  when  the  story  was 
finished  his  only  comment  was : 

"Well,  I'll  be  darned!" 

Satisfying  themselves  that  no  bears  were  to  be 
found  in  this  part  of  the  mountain,  they  started  for 
old  Camp  Bear  Trail  next  morning,  and  late  in  the 
evening  they  pitched  their  tent  in  the  familiar  spot. 
The  bear-trap  was  again  set  in  the  canon,  but  several 
days  passed  without  special  incident.  Dyche  and 
Brown  made  a  long  trip  to  the  west  and  returned  late 
in  the  evening,  tired  from  their  exertions.  While 
Brown  took  the  burros  to  water,  Dyche  set  about 
getting  supper,  and  had  it  well  under  way  when 
Brown  rushed  into  camp,  calling : 

"What  is  that  roaring  in  the  canon?" 

An  answer  was  unnecessary,  for  the  sound  was  so 
plain  that  both  shouted  at  once : 

"A  bear!  a  bear!" 

Brown  seized  the  shot-gun  without  waiting  to 
see  whether  it  was  loaded  or  not,  while  Dyche 
got  the  rifle  and  a  handful  of  cartridges,  and  away 
they  went  down  the  cafion.  The  roaring  continued 
and   grew   louder   and  louder,  and   the   two    men 


THE  BEAR  WAS  HANDICAPPED.  69 

went  over  bushes,  logs,  stumps,  and  even  small  trees 
in  their  haste.  Brown  fell  over  a  bush  and  lost  the 
shot-gun,  but  was  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  pick  it  up, 
and  on  he  went,  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  The 
noise  was  closer  now,  and  appeared  to  be  a  cross  be- 
tween the  roar  of  an  African  lion  and  the  bellow  of  an 
enraged  bull.  Then  the  bear  came  in  sight.  He  was 
going  down  the  canon  as  fast  as  the  big  fifty-pound 
trap  fastened  to  his  leg  would  let  him.  The  long 
chain  was  fastened  to  a  twenty-five-foot  pole,  and 
this  caught  in  the  rocks  and  bushes,  detaining  bruin 
in  his  frantic  efforts  to  get  away  from  his  pursuers. 

"  Shoot  him.  Professor,  shoot  him !"  yelled  Brown. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  bear  stopped  and 
looked  back.  He  now  tried  to  get  the  trap  from  his 
foot  by  beating  it  with  his  paws  and  biting  it  until 
his  mouth  was  bloody  and  his  teeth  broken. 

A  ball  from  the  rifle  knocked  the  bear  down,  but 
he  was  up  in  an  instant  and  was  going  down  the  canon 
faster  than  ever.  Another  ball  sent  him  to  grass 
again,  but  he  would  not  stay  down,  and  then  a  third 
ball  knocked  him  over  so  hard  that  he  could  not  get 
up.  He  now  went  through  a  series  of  wild  contor- 
tions, rolling  and  tumbling,  roaring  and  bellowing 
in  a  most  terrible  manner.  He  had  received  his 
death- wound  and  Dyche  let  him  alone  to  die,  which 
took  about  fifteen  minutes.  Then  the  naturalists 
shook  hands,  executed  their  favourite  war-dance,  and 
did  numerous  seemingly  foolish  things  with  which 
all  hunters  can  sympathise.  Their  victim  was  meas- 
ured and  skinned  and  left  where  he  fell  until  morning, 
for  no  animal  would  touch  a  dead  bear. 


70  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

The  excitement  of  the  bear-hunt  made  them  forget 
for  the  time  being  how  tired  they  were,  but  now  that 
it  was  all  over  they  went  slowly  back  to  get  their 
supper.  In  the  fight  with  the  bear  they  had  travelled 
nearly  two  miles  down  the  canon,  and  were  almost 
exhausted  when  camp  was  reached.  In  their  haste 
to  get  to  the  bear  Brown  had  forgotten  to  tie  up  old 
Keuben,  and  that  animal  utilised  the  opportunity  by 
doing  up  the  camp  while  they  were  doing  up  the 
bear.  He  first  made  a  raid  on  the  little  pole  table 
made  between  the  trees  and  cleaned  it  off.  He  ate 
the  apple-sauce  and  licked  the  dish.  The  last  half- 
pound  of  butter  followed  this.  The  soap  was  gone. 
A  piece  of  bacon  had  been  pulled  down  and 
mouthed  until  it  was  useless.  The  dish-cloth  had 
been  chewed,  and  when  found  the  old  reprobate  had 
just  finished  the  batch  of  hot  bread  which  had  been 
left  baking  in  the  Dutch  oven  covered  with  coals. 
Reuben  had  poked  the  cover  off  without  burn- 
ing himself  and  finished  the  bread.  Such  inci- 
dents are  amusing  to  look  back  upon  or  to  tell 
about,  but  just  at  that  time  it  was  the  straw 
which  broke  the  hearts  of  the  naturalists.  Reuben's 
head  was  tied  close  to  a  tree,  where  he  was  left  to 
repent  of  his  sins,  which  he  undoubtedly  did,  for 
next  morning  he  made  a  light  luncheon  off  of  one  of 
Brown's  socks  which  had  been  hung  on  a  bush  to 
dry. 

That  afternoon  a  voice  was  heard  calling  away 
down  the  canon.  Wondering  who  it  could  be,  Dyche 
and  Brown  went  down  to  render  aid  if  aid  was 
needed.     It  was  Clare,  who  had  made  the  trip  u]3 


ANTS  AND  FLEAS.  71 

into  those  wild  mountains  alone.  He  shared 
Brown's  bed  on  one  side  of  the  tent,  while  Dyche 
occupied  the  other.  About  midnight  the  sleepers 
were  aroused  by  an  appalling  din,  and  Clare  bolted 
through  the  tent  entrance  without  waiting  to  untie 
the  strings.  He  stood  by  the  fire  yelling  at  the  top 
of  his  voice. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you?  Have  you  got  the 
nightmare?"  asked  Brown. 

"Ants!  ants  in  my  pants!"  yelled  Clare,  as  he 
rubbed  his  legs  and  tried  to  dislodge  the  insects.  He 
was  scolded  into  returning  to  bed,  and  the  camp  had 
barely  got  settled  down  again  when  the  racket  broke 
out  once  more,  but  this  time  it  was  Brown,  and  he 
was  immediately  followed  by  Clare. 

"Ants!  ants!"  they  screamed.  Dyche  grumbled 
at  them  for  disturbing  him  and  asked  why  they  could 
not  make  less  noise. 

"It's  Brown  that's  got  the  nightmare,"  said  Clare. 
"  It  isn't  so  funny  now."  Just  then  Dyche  felt  as  if 
a  piece  had  been  bitten  out  of  his  leg,  and  he  gave  a 
jump  and  shout  that  told  the  others  that  they  were  not 
alone  in  their  misery.  The  rest  of  the  night  was 
spent  in  searching  for  the  voracious  insects  and 
driving  them  out.  The  tent  had  been  pitched 
near  the  site  of  a  big  ant-hill,  but  it  was  supposed 
that  all  the  insects  had  been  cleared  out.  At  break- 
fast in  the  morning  Brown  suddenly  dropped  his  plate 
and  seized  his  leg  with  an  exclamation. 

"  I've  got  him,  sure,  this  time,"  he  said,  and  an  in- 
vestigation revealed  no  ant,  but  a  big  reddish  flea. 
The  whole  thing  was  plain  now.  There  were  no  ants, 
6 


73  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

but  the  bear-skin,  which  had  been  deposited  near  the 
tent,  was  full  of  fleas,  and  when  the  skin  got  cold  the 
insects  had  made  an  excursion  in  search  of  warmth 
and  food,  which  they  found  under  the  blankets  in  the 
tent. 

That  evening  there  was  a  grand  feast  in  the  camp 
with  bear-meat,  brisket  of  deer,  and  good  appetites. 
Then  came  a  general  bear  talk.  Bear-meat  was 
tough  and  stringy  and  jumped  under  the  teeth  like  a 
piece  of  india-rubber.  Some  was  roasted  and  some 
was  boiled,  but  it  was  all  tough  and  had  a  peculiar 
flavor. 

"  Is  all  bear-meat  as  tough  as  this?"  asked  Brown. 

"No.  I've  eaten  the  meat  of  black  bear  that  was 
very  nice  and  tender,"  answered  the  professor.  "It 
tasted  like  pork.  I  presume  a  young  grizzly  would 
not  be  bad  eating. " 

"  How  big  do  bears  get?"  asked  Clare. 

"  Well,  that's  hard  to  tell.  According  to  some  re- 
ports they  occasionally  exceed  two  thousand  pounds, 
but  I  don't  think  there  are  many  so  large.  From  the 
best  information  I  am  able  to  obtain  I  don't  believe 
they  get  larger  than  twelve  hundred  pounds.  I  was 
told  by  an  old  hunter  that  he  saw  a  bear  in  Califor- 
nia that  weighed  between  eleven  and  twelve  hundred 
pounds  and  it  was  a  monster.  It  was  kept  in  captiv- 
ity and  had  been  fed  every  day  until  it  was  very  fat." 

"  How  large  do  black  bears  get?" 

"  Ordinarily  between  two  hundred  and  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  pounds.  I  heard  of  one  taken  in 
Idaho  which  weighed  four  hundred  and  twenty -five 
pounds." 


BEAR  TALK.  73 

"  How  many  kinds  of  bear  are  there  in  this  coun- 
try?" asked  Clare. 

"Only  two,  the  grizzly  and  the  black." 
"  Well,  how  about  the  silver- tip  and  the  cinnamon?" 
"  I  was  just  going  to  say  that  the  cinnamon  is  a 
variety  of  the  black,  while  the  silver-tip  is  a  smaller 
form  of  the  grizzly.  Bears  vary  greatly  in  size,  even 
when  full  grown.  They  also  vary  much  in  colour, 
ranging  from  a  light  yellowish-brown  to  almost  jet- 
black.  I  have  seen  the  skins  of  young  grizzlies  al- 
most as  light-coloured  as  wolves.  The  feet  and  lower 
part  of  the  legs  are,  however,  dark,  shading  from 
black  to  various  tints  of  brown.  The  colour  also  de- 
pends on  the  season.  In  the  spring  the  old  shaggy 
hair  is  much  lighter  than  the  new  fall  coat.  This 
wide  range  in  colour  and  size  of  the  grizzly  has  done 
much  to  encourage  the  notion  that  there  are  different 
kinds  of  grizzlies  in  the  United  States.  The  cinna- 
mon or  brown  bear  seems  to  be  only  a  colour  variety 
of  the  black.  Those  who  claim  that  these  bears  are 
different  species  say  that  the  black  and  cinnamon 
cross  and  make  the  different  colours.  This  is  really 
an  argument  against  the  claimants,  for  different  spe- 
cies of  animals  do  not  cross.  If  they  did  they  would 
merge  finally  into  one  single  species.  The  silver-tip 
seems  to  be  a  well-marked  variety  of  the  grizzly." 

"  How  could  one  tell  a  silver-tip  grizzly  from  a  cin- 
namon?" asked  Brown. 

"  A  grizzly  can  usually  be  distinguished  by  the  fact 
that  his  front  claws  are  twice  as  long  as  his  hind 
ones.  They  sometimes  reach  the  length  of  five  inches. 
In  the  black  or  cinnamon  there  is  not  such  a  marked 


74  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

difference.  The  colour  of  black  or  brown  bears  is 
more  uniform  through  out,  while  the  colour  of  the  griz- 
zly is  variegated.  The  grizzly  also  has  a  more  dis- 
tinct mane,  which  stands  up  between  the  shoulders, 
sometimes  reaching  a  length  of  five  or  six  inches. 
The  feet  of  the  grizzly  are  always  broad  and  thick  as 
compared  with  those  of  the  black  bear." 

"  How  large  are  bears  when  they  are  born?" 

"About  the  size  of  Norway  rats.  The  old  bear 
generally  has  twins  and  sometimes  triplets.  An 
Indian  gave  me  some  young  ones  which  he  said  were 
about  two  weeks  old.  They  were  about  the  size  of 
Newfoundland  puppies." 

"  Do  bears  hibernate?"  asked  Brown. 

"  Yes,  after  a  fashion.  Not  in  the  ordinary  sense 
of  the  word.  They  do  not  get  torpid.  They  usually 
*den  up'  in  the  colder  parts  of  the  winter.  These 
dens  are  simply  nests  of  leaves  and  grass  under  the 
roots  of  some  overturned  tree.  Here  the  bear  stays 
until  the  weather  gets  warm,  unless  he  is  disturbed, 
and  then  he  is  'up  and  coming.'  " 

"  Do  bears  voluntarily  attack  people?"  asked  Clare. 

"  If  you  suddenly  came  upon  an  old  female  with 
cubs  she  would  probably  show  fight  just  as  a  cow 
moose,  an  old  sow,  or  any  domestic  animal  would.  A 
wounded  bear  will  also  fight  just  the  same  as  any 
other  wounded  animal." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  all  those  stories  about 
bears  attacking  people  are  false,  do  you?"  asked 
Brown. 

"  Most  of  them  are  undoubtedly  so.  Bears  are  the 
most  cunning  animals  in   the   mountains.     I  have 


BEAR  TALK.  75 

come  upon  their  beds  while  thej^  were  still  warm,  but 
the  bears  were  gone  without  my  even  getting  a 
glimpse  of  them.  No  matter  how  sly  I  am,  they  are 
pretty  sure  to  hear  me  and  go  scurrying  through  the 
woods  as  fast  as  their  legs  will  carry  them.  Their 
senses  of  hearing,  smelling,  and  seeing  seem  to  be 
marvellously  developed." 

"  What  do  they  feed  on?" 

"  That  depends  to  a  considerable  extent  upon  the 
country  in  which  they  live.  Like  the  hog,  they  take 
anything  they  can  get.  They  will  take  meat,  rob  birds' 
nests  and  suck  the  eggs,  catch  frogs,  eat  fish ;  they  are 
very  fond  of  vegetables,  berries,  and  tender  roots,  and 
they  will  eat  ants  and  other  insects  and  even  worms. 
They  are  very  fond  of  acorns  and  go  a  long  way  after 
them.  In  Washington  and  British  Columbia  they 
desert  the  mountains  when  the  salmon  are  running 
and  live  along  the  streams." 

The  hunt  was  now  over  and  the  skins  and  meat 
were  packed  to  Harvey's  ranch,  where  the  naturalists 
said  farewell  to  their  friends  and  returned  to  civili- 
sation. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  Peculiar  Wedding-Journey — Field  Taxidermy — A  Typical 
Mountaineer — Big  Bear  Talk — The  Cabin  was  Looted — A 
Lost  Timepiece — A  Great  Day  for  Talking. 

jLL  was  bustle  in  Paradise  Valley  one  May 
morning  two  years  after  the  events  nar- 
rated in  the  preceding  chapter.     Harvey 
was  reading  to  Mrs.  Harvey  and  Allie 
a  letter,  the  gist  of  which  was  as  follows : 

"  Meet  me  with  the  burros.  I  have  two  compan- 
ions and  am  coming  to  spend  the  summer  with  you." 
It  was  from  Dyche,  and  this  announcement  was 
the  cause  of  the  commotion.  Everyone  was  impa- 
tient for  the  pack-train  to  be  off,  even  old  Reuben 
seeming  to  know  that  something  out  of  the  ordinary 
had  happened,  for  instead  of  hanging  back  and  caus- 
ing trouble  when  the  train  started,  he  walked  sedately 
to  his  place  and  waited  for  his  saddle. 

Dyche  and  his  companions  had  travelled  the 
twenty-five  miles  from  Las  Vegas  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountains  in  a  wagon,  and  were  now  waiting  for 
the  arrival  of  the  pack-train  from  the  mountain 
ranch.  Their  baggage  had  been  dumped  on  the 
ground  at  the  edge  of  a  little  Mexican  village  on  the 
banks  of  the  Gallinas  River,  and  here  they  made  their 
camp.  The  home  life  of  the  Mexicans,  as  seen  from 
the  door  of  their  tent,  served  to  while  away  the  time 

76 


A  PECULIAR   WEDDING-JOURNEY.  77 

of  waiting.  The  fact  first  observed  was  that  every 
man  and  woman  in  the  village  was  an  inveterate 
cigarette-smoker.  The  children  had  driven  their 
herds  of  goats  to  the  mountains  and  the  lazy  oxen  were 
drawing  their  creaking  and  groaning  carts  or  haul- 
ing heavy  logs  to  the  sawmill,  which  puffed  and 
buzzed  a  short  distance  down  the  river.  Fires  were 
started  in  the  big  out-door  beehive  oven  ready  for 
the  week's  baking,  and  village  life  was  in  full  blast, 
when  the  campers  were  startled  by  a  loud  hail  in  a 
voice  that  to  Dyche  had  a  familiar  ring. 

"  Ha-o,  there !     Como  le  va?" 

"  Como  le  va  yourself." 

"Who's  this  you've  got  with  you?" 

"This  is  my  wife.  I'm  married  now,"  replied 
Dyche. 

"  Well,  I  want  to  know !  So  you're  married !  And 
you  thought  you  would  come  to  the  finest  country  in 
the  world  for  your  wedding-trip?" 

" I  see  that  you  haven't  lost  old  Reuben  yet." 

"Lost  him?  Why,  you  couldn't  lose  him  if  you 
tried.  He's  just  the  meanest  old  burro  in  the  whole 
country.  He  steals  eggs  and  eats  young  chickens 
every  chance  he  gets.  If  you  and  Brown  had  killed 
him  for  a  specimen  when  you  were  here,  it  would 
have  saved  me  much  trouble  and  bad  temper.  I  had 
to  bring  him  along,  for  I  darsn't  leave  him  at  the 
ranch." 

"WeU,  why  can't  Mrs.  Dyche  ride  him  to  the 
ranch?  He's  gentle  enough  and  she  will  be  in  no 
danger  in  going  over  the  trail." 

No  sooner  suggested  than  acted  on,  and  the  saddle 


78  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

was  put  on  the  old  burro,  and  for  the  next  six  miles 
Mrs.  Dyche  exercised  her  arms  trying  to  make  him 
keep  in  the  trail  and  up  with  the  other  donkeys.  He 
had  a  mind  of  his  own  and  would  wander  off  to  lunch 
on  tempting  bits  of  grass  away  from  the  trail.  Her 
feeble  efforts  at  punishment  had  about  as  much  effect 
on  him  as  tickling  with  a  straw.  Finally  he  was 
put  in  the  middle  of  the  train  and  better  time  was 
made.  The  ranch  was  reached  by  noon,  and  hj  night 
the  party  had  become  thoroughly  domiciled,  ready 
for  the  summer's  campaign. 

The  object  of  this  year's  trip  was  to  put  into 
practical  operation  an  idea  of  Dyche 's  regarding  field 
mounting  of  birds.  The  camp  was  placed  by  the  side 
of  a  cool  spring  which  gushed  from  the  edge  of  a 
patch  of  quaking  asps,  while  on  the  west  was  a  heavy 
body  of  spruce.  Stretching  to  the  south  for  two  or 
three  hundred  yards  was  a  fine  grassy  meadow, 
merging  into  a  jungle  of  willow  and  tag-alder 
bushes  covering  a  piece  of  swampy  ground.  A 
small  wall-tent  was  devoted  to  taxidermic  operations, 
and  soon  became  known  as  the  museum.  This  tent 
faced  south,  overlooking  the  meadow,  and  was  pre- 
pared for  any  emergency.  Shelves  arranged  in  one 
corner  held  the  mounting  outfit,  which  included  a 
bunch  of  wire,  a  can  of  alum  and  arsenic,  a  bottle  of 
benzine,  a  can  of  plaster-of-Paris,  a  case  of  the  size 
and  shape  of  a  cigar-box  containiug  a  complete 
assortment  of  tools  for  skinning  and  mounting  birds, 
a  roll  of  manilla  paper,  and  a  few  other  articles. 
Under  these  shelves  were  kept  rolls  of  cotton -batting 
and  excelsior.     A  pole  table  served  as  an  operating- 


.       FIELD  TAXIDERMY.  79 

desk,  while  a  hollow  log,  sawed  to  the  proper  length 
and  covered  with  buckskin,  furnished  the  seat.  On 
one  side  was  a  pole  platform  on  which  mounted  birds 
were  stored,  while  a  similar  one  held  the  guns  and 
ammunition  ready  for  instant  action.  By  noon  on  the 
second  day  the  whole  place  was  complete,  and  they 
were  ready  for  anything  of  the  bird  kind  from  an 
eagle  to  a  "hummer." 

Two    beautiful  long-crested  jays   perched  them- 

L.  •       selves  on  a  limb  in  front  of  the  tent  and  began  an 

/¥    inspection  which  cost  them  their  lives,  and  they  were 

'\^     first  to  be  immolated  on  the  shrine  of  science.     The 

j^  ^'^  advantage  of  field  taxidermy  was  shown  in  the  first 

jW^^'  day's  work.     The  operator  was  not  compelled  to  rely 

j^  ,&*Tipon  either  memory  or  notes  to  ascertain  the  correct 

''^^^/^ositions  of  birds,  but  from  his  desk  could  look  into 

^  kI^  ^®  trees  and  see  the  counterpart  of  the  one  in  hand 

^'A^^^jj^iidi  thus  get  the  natural  poses  and  positions.     This 

^  jO^'^^^ractice  soon  convinced  Dyche  that  the  live  bird  in 

^  its  natural  habitat  was  the  only  safe   guide  to    be 

followed.     Another  point  gained  by  field-work  was 

in  mounting  many  of  the  smaller  birds  which  had 

such  tender  skins  that  it  was  next  to  impossible  to 

carry  them  long  distances  before  mounting.     This 

was  especially  noticeable  in  the  hummers,  which, 

every  taxidermist  knows,  are   exceedingly   difficult 

to  mount  after    becoming  dry.     Ordinarily  many 

skins  are  spoiled  by  oil  oozing  from  the  shot-holes, 

but  when  they  are  mounted  immediately  this  can  be 

obviated  with  little  difficulty.     Doves  and  pigeons, 

which  are  so  difficult  to  mount  from  dry  specimens, 

were  handled  very  readily,  and  the  fresh  skins  were 


80  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

found  to    be  tough   enough   fcr   all  practical   pur- 
poses. 

The  month  of  June,  which  was  thus  devoted  to 
field-work,  passed  very  quickly,  and  one  hundred  and 
fifteen  birds  stood  on  the  pole  table  ready  for  trans- 
portation down  the  mountain.  But  this  was  a  prob- 
lem which  had  not  yet  been  solved.  How  were  the 
mounted  specimens  to  be  carried  down  the  twisting 
trail  and  over  the  hundreds  of  miles  of  railroad 
without  injuring  them?  Dyche  had  an  idea  about  it 
before  he  came,  and  several  cracker  and  soap  boxes 
had  been  taken  apart  and  carried  up  the  mountain 
and  were  now  put  together.  The  birds  had  been 
mounted  on  a  T-shaped  stand,  and  the  cross-piece  of 
the  T  was  now  taken  off  and  placed  on  the  bottom 
of  the  box,  holes  in  which  permitted  the  passage  of 
wire.  This  wire  passed  over  the  cross-piece  and  was 
securely  fastened  below.  Adjusting  the  birds  at 
such  an  angle  as  to  occupy  the  least  space,  a  layer 
covered  the  bottom  of  the  box  and  then  cleats  were 
screwed  on  and  a  shelf  or  tray,  also  covered  with 
birds,  was  placed  in,  the  process  being  continued 
until  the  box  was  filled.  The  lid  was  screwed  on  and 
the  whole  neatly  covered  with  canvas,  giving  to  it 
the  appearance  of  an  ordinary  satchel,  to  which 
handles  were  attached.  In  addition  to  the  hundred 
and  fifteen  mounted  birds  a  large  cracker-box  was 
filled  with  dry^skins,  the  larger  ones  being  rolled  in 
cotton  and  fastened  in  the  box  so  that  they  could  not 
crowd  each  other,  and  the  smaller  ones  being  placed 
in  cylinders  made  of  heavy  manilla  paper,  to  which 
they  were  secured  by  long  pins  passing  through  the 


A  TYPICAL  MOUNTAINEER.  SI" 

paper  into  the  bird-skin.  These  boxes  were  carried 
over  trails  and  on  the  cars  as  hand-baggage.  Eames, 
the  student  who  was  with  Dyche  this  year,  fashioned 
a  pack-saddle  for  his  shoulders,  and  marched  ahead 
of  the  pack-animals  with  the  two  boxes  of  mounted 
birds.  Arriving  at  their  destination,  it  was  found 
that  the  journey  of  several  hundred  miles  had  done 
no  damage  to  the  frailest  specimen. 

Dyche  concluded  to  give  his  wife  a  taste  of  real 
mountain  life,  and  just  as  he  was  considering  a 
trip  to  Camp  Bear  Trail,  Beaty,  the  mica-miner, 
came  up  from  Las  Yegas  on  his  way  to  his  ranch, 
which  was  established  at  the  head-waters  of  the 
Pecos,  about  ten  miles  from  the  ridge  on  which 
Dyche  and  Brown  had  passed  through  the  terrible 
electrical  storm.  The  miner  gave  them  such  a  hearty 
invitation  to  accompany  him  home  that  they  ac- 
cepted, and  he  promised  the  best  hunting  and  fishing 
in  the  country.  The  hardships  of  a  three-days'  jour- 
ney over  the  roughest  part  of  the  mountains  did  not 
deter  Mrs.  Dyche,  and  early  one  morning  the  start 
was  made,  old  Reuben  carrying  Mrs.  Dyche.  With 
Beaty  in  the  lead  picking  out  the  trail  and  Dyche 
in  the  rear  to  punch  up  stragglers,  they  went  up  the 
mountains,  Beaty  beguiling  the  way  with  many 
quaint  stories. 

All  signs  of  a  trail  finally  faded  away  and  merged 
into  a  tangled  network  of  underbrush  and  fallen 
timber.  Dyche  offered  Beaty  a  small  hand  axe  with 
which  to  cut  his  way,  but  the  latter  declined,  and 
drawing  an  immense  knife  from  his  belt,  remarked : 
"This  is,  sure  the  thing  for  that  kind   of  work. 


82  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

This  is  sure  a  good  knife.  I  made  it  myself  out  of 
a  drill,  and  I  made  this  one  too, "  drawing  its  mate 
from  his  belt.  The  blades  were  twelve  inches  long 
and  of  finely  tempered  steel.  "They're  sure  bear 
knives,  and  long  enough  to  reach  a  bear's  heart.  If 
a  bear  ever  comes  across  this  old  man  he  will  sure 
feel  this  knife  in  his  heart.  See  these  buckhorn 
handles?  I  sure  made  them  and  killed  the  buck  that 
wore  the  horns." 

Beaty  was  a  typical  mountaineer,  and  as  he  stood 
flourishing  the  big  knives  above  his  big  sombrero, 
with  his  buckskin  coat,  he  looked  a  fit  match  for  any 
bear  that  walked  the  range.  His  continued  talk  of 
what  he  would  "sure"  do  and  Dyche's  knowledge 
of  the  power  of  the  grizzly  bear,  made  the  latter  a 
little  dubious  as  to  the  outcome  of  a  fight  with  Beaty 
and  a  bear  as  chief  actors,  but  he  kept  his  counsel 
and  drew  the  mountaineer  out  until  the  woods  were 
filled  with  the  sound  of  his  big  bear  talk. 

The  first  day  passed  pleasantly,  barring  the  many 
"unpleasantnesses"  between  Reuben  and  his  rider, 
and  camp  was  made  by  the  side  of  a  spring  in  a 
grassy  meadow.  The  second  day  took  the  party 
through  a  long  stretch  of  burned  timber ;  the  donkeys 
caused  much  trouble  by  continually  running  into 
snags  and  tearing  their  packs.  Camp  was  made  on 
the  slope  of  the  mountain,  near  a  bunch  of  quaking 
asp  and  spruce  trees.  As  the  train  approached  the 
spot  an  old  hen  grouse  flew  up,  and  while  the  sup- 
per was  being  prepared  the  young  grouse  could  be 
heard  "peeping"  in  the  grass  and  bushes.  Mrs. 
Dyche  could  not  rest  until  the  little  fellows  had  been 


BIG  BEAR  TALK.  88 

caught  and  snuggled  under  a  blanket,  where  they 
spent  the  night  cosily;  and  next  morning  when 
they  all  ran  about,  alive  and  spry,  Dyche  did 
not  regret  having  spent  an  hour  on  his  hands  and 
knees  in  search  of  them  the  night  before.  The 
mother  grouse  flew  down  from  a  neighbouring  tree  as 
the  train  moved  away,  and  Mrs.  Dyche 's  heart  was 
made  glad  with  the  knowledge  that  the  grouse  family 
was  reunited. 

"Do  you  see  that  pile  of  stones?"  asked  Beaty, 
pointing  to  a  heap  of  small  rocks  which  had  evidently 
been  thrown  together  for  some  purpose.  "A  few 
years  ago  it  was  sure  very  dry  on  the  plains,  and 
Mexican  herders  brought  their  sheep  up  into  the 
mountains  where  they  could  get  grass  and  water. 
One  old  man  had  $10  in  his  pocket  and  he  was  killed 
and  robbed  by  some  of  his  companions.  When  his 
friends  carried  his  body  out,  wherever  they  stopped 
to  rest  they  would  make  a  little  pile  of  stones,  and 
now  whenever  a  Mexican  passes  along  he  adds  a 
stone  to  the  pile  and  says  a  prayer  for  the  rest  of  the 
murdered  man's  soul." 

"  Is  that  the  reason  there  are  so  many  little  stone 
piles  throughout  New  Mexico?"  asked  Dyche. 

"No,  not  always.  They  are  made  to  commemo- 
rate some  incident.  They've  sure  got  some  queer 
superstitions,  and  one  of  their  religious  ones  is  the 
queerest. " 

"What's  that?" 

"  A  lot  of  them  go  up  on  Hermit's  Peak,  over  there, 
and  crawl  around  on  their  hands  and  knees  among 
the  cactus  bushes  and  on  the  stones,  exposing  them- 


84  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

selves  to  hunger  and  thirst.  They  sure  die  from  it 
sometimes." 

"Why  do  they  call  it  Hermit's  Peak?" 

"  An  old  Mexican  hermit  used  to  live  there,  and 
when  the  people  went  there  they  took  him  things  to 
eat.  They  say  he  had  a  gold-mine  up  there  and  he 
sure  had  lots  of  gold.  He  hid  it  all  away  when  he 
left,  and  it  has  never  been  found.  There's  sure  gold 
there,  but  I've  not  found  it  yet.  I've  got  colours, 
though." 

So  Beaty  beguiled  the  way  with  his  stories,  and  as 
they  were  going  down  into  a  grassy  valley  he  sud- 
denly stopped  the  train  and  called  out : 

"  See  that  willow  thicket  there?  Well,  I  sure  saw 
a  bear  there.  You  see  that  old  log  there?  Well, 
when  I  got  there  I  heard  a  mighty  noise  in 
those  willows  and  four  bears  came  out  all  at  once. 
I  thought  they  had  it  in  for  the  old  man,  but  I 
just  threw  myself  down  by  the  side  of  that  big 
log,  jerked  out  both  knives,  and  if  the  bears  had 
come  I  sure  would  have  done  some  of  them.  When 
they  saw  that  I  was  sure  ready  for  them  they  got 
out  of  there  in  a  hurry.  As  I  lay  there  four  bears 
went  hustling  up  the  other  side  of  the  mountain. 
This  is  sure  a  great  country  for  bears." 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  within  a  few  rods  of 
the  cabin  of  the  miner,  the  train  was  again  called  to 
a  halt,  and  Beaty,  pointing  to  a  large  tree,  said : 

"See  that  tree  there?  I  met  an  old  grizzly 
there.  I'd  been  fishing  and  was  coming  to  the 
ranch.  I  had  thirty  fish  on  a  stringer,  not  one  less 
than  twelve  inches  long,  and  was  within  thirty  feet 


THE  CABIN  LOOTED.  85 

of  a  bear  before  I  saw  him.  I  skinned  up  that 
tree  in  a  hurry,  and  that  bear  came  along  and 
ate  up  every  one  of  those  fish  and  then  licked  the 
stringer.  He  then  looked  at  me  and  walked  off 
about  his  business  as  if  nothing  had  happened." 

"Why  didn't  you  kill  him  with  your  big  bear 
knives?"  asked  Dyche. 

"  I  had  left  my  knives  at  the  cabin  or  there  would 
have  been  the  worst  bear-fight  ever  seen  in  these 
mountains." 

"He  would  have  killed  you,  Beaty,  before  you 
could  have  hurt  him  with  a  knife." 

"  He  would  have  had  some  fun  doin'  it.  I  would 
have  thrown  myself  down  on  my  back.  That  is 
sure  the  way  to  fight  a  bear.  When  he  came  up 
I  would  have  plunged  both  knives  into  him.  It 
would  sure  have  fixed  him  too." 

All  this  bear  talk  had  a  depressing  effect  upon 
Mrs.  Dyche,  and  as  the  party  moved  on  towards  the 
cabin  they  saw  that  a  bear  had  recently  been  there. 
The  little  garden  had  been  torn  up  and  the  big  tracks 
could  be  seen  everywhere. 

"See,  there  are  bears  here.  The  woods  are  full 
of  them." 

Unlocking  the  door  of  the  little  two-roomed  cabin, 
Beaty  stepped  inside,  but  at  once  bounced  out  with 
his  eyes  distended  and  his  whole  face  showing  great 
excitement. 

"I've  sure  been  robbed.  Somebody's  taken  every- 
thing I  had,  even  my  gun  and  pistol.  There  ain't 
enough  left  for  one  meal.  I'll  follow  them.  If  I 
ever  strike  their  trail  they'll  be  mine." 


86  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

He  raved  and  howled  until  the  air  seemed  to  take 
on  a  pale  blue  tinge  and  smelled  sulphurous.  Mrs. 
Dyche  concluded  it  would  be  well  to  go  down  and 
watch  the  water  run  in  the  river  while  Dyche  tried 
in  vain  to  calm  the  enraged  miner.  The  cabin  had 
been  completely  looted,  to  all  appearances.  Beaty 
pointed  to  places  where  he  had  had  a  ham  or  a  side 
of  bacon  hanging  or  where  a  can  of  syrup  stood,  but 
these  places  were  all  vacant  now.  Ho  took  a  wide 
circuit  around  the  place  to  find  a  trail,  but  all  in 
vain.  The  only  tracks  to  be  seen  were  those  made 
by  Beaty  himself  during  his  last  visit.  Down  by  the 
river  were  seen  small  tracks,  like  those  of  a  woman, 
and  Beaty  came  in  full  of  the  idea  that  he  had  dis- 
covered the  whole  plot. 

"  There  was  a  white  man  with  a  Mexican  woman 
and  they  had  a  train  of  burros,  for  they  could  never 
have  carried  off  all  that  stuff  on  their  backs.  I  will 
sure  find  them  if  it  takes  my  whole  life. " 

All  night  long  the  visitors  could  hear  their  host 
grumbling,  and  ever  and  anon  he  would  break  out 
with  oaths  that  would  make  Mrs.  Dyche  shudder. 
Beaty  was  up  early  and  started  off  down  the  Pecos 
River  to  his  nearest  neighbour,  twenty-five  miles 
away,  in  hopes  of  getting  some  trace  of  the  despera- 
does. Dyche  and  his  wife  concluded  that  it  would 
be  best  to  get  out  of  the  countrj^  themselves,  and 
notwithstanding  they  had  just  had  a  hard  three-days' 
trip  up  the  mountains,  they  started  back  for  Harvey's 
ranch.  They  had  plenty  of  provisions  and  the  river 
was  full  of  fish,  but  the  talk  about  bears  and  the 
experience    with    robbers  were  too  much  for  Mrs. 


THE  CABIN  LOOTED.  87 

Dyche.  The  first  night  on  the  way  down  some  wild 
animal  frightened  the  donkeys  so  that  they  rushed 
into  camp  for  protection  and  kept  the  travellers 
awake  the  balance  of  the  night.  Next  day  they  left 
the  main  trail  and  went  off  to  Bear  Trail  Camp. 
It  seemed  like  getting  home  again  to  Dyche.  Two 
years  had  passed  since  the  last  visit,  but  everything 
was  just  as  he  had  left  it.  An  old  dish-rag  still 
hung  on  a  peg  in  the  tree,  while  on  the  pole  table 
sat  the  wooden  bowl,  carved  out  with  so  much  pa- 
tience by  Brown.  Cans  and  tin  pans  were  hanging 
in  their  accustomed  places,  while  even  the  firewood 
which  had  been  placed  in  a  dry  nook  was  still  there 
ready  for  the  fire.  Sticking  from  the  roots  of  the 
tree  was  the  neck  of  a  bottle  of  syrup,  now  greatly 
improved  with  age.  The  two  were  soon  comfortable, 
and  after  five  days'  continuous  travelling  on  a  rough 
trail  the  rest  was  welcome. 

Dyche  knew  every  foot  of  ground  around  the  camp 
as  well  as  he  did  his  father's  pasture,  and  he  started 
out  to  find  a  deer.  Mrs.  Dyche  had  seen  so  many 
bear  signs  that  she  insisted  that  he  should  not  go  out 
of  hearing.  There  were  so  many  evidences  in  the 
great  holes  where  bears  had  wallowed,  or  where  they 
had  turned  over  the  logs  and  stones,  or  scratched 
the  trees,  that  she  was  sure  she  saw  a  bear  in  every 
blackened  stump  on  the  mountain.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  Dyche  was  sitting  at  the  edge  of  a  little 
meadow,  concealed  by  a  bunch  of  willows. 

Just  as  the  sun  touched  the  western  mountain- 
tops  a  deer  came  to  the  edge  of  the  woods  about  three 
hundred  yards  from  where  Dyche  was  sitting.     The 

r 


88  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

animal  was  very  cautious  and  stepped  along  care- 
fully, watching  for  the  least  sign  of  danger.  He 
finally  stepped  from  the  timber  and  began  nipping 
the  leaves  and  grass  and  feeding  towards  where  the 
hunter  was  concealed.  He  fed  along  so  slowly  that  it 
became  a  race  between  the  deer  and  the  sun.  At  last 
the  sun  disappeared  and  darkness  came  on  rapidly. 
Dyche  was  uneasy  lest  his  wife  should  drop  a  pan  or 
make  some  other  noise  which  would  startle  the  deer. 
It  became  so  dark  that  the  sights  on  the  rifle  were 
not  distinguishable,  and  when  the  deer  came  within 
fifty  yards  Dyche  fired  his  shot-gun.  The  animal 
gave  several  great  jumps  and  Dj^che  did  not  wait  to 
see  if  his  shot  had  been  fatal,  but  he  sent  a  ball  from 
the  rifle  after  it  and  the  deer  sank  to  the  ground. 
Calling  Mrs.  Dyche,  who  took  charge  of  the  guns, 
he  dressed  the  deer  and  carried  it  to  camp.  A  hot 
supper  of  venison  liver,  biscuits,  coffee,  and  syrup 
convinced  them  that  they  had  chosen  well  in  coming 
to  the  mountains.  Two  days  were  spent  at  Camp 
Bear  Trail,  and  they  lived  as  happily  as  if  they  had 
been  domiciled  at  some  summer  hotel. 

When  they  had  left  Harvey's  ranch,  eight  daj^s 
before,  the  place  was  comparatively  quiet,  with 
only  Harvey,  his  wife,  and  Allie  there.  As  they  ap- 
proached on  their  return,  however,  they  were  made 
aware  of  the  fact  that  a  change  had  come  since  their 
departure.  Voices,  loud  and  strong,  could  be  heard 
long  before  they  reached  the  clearing.  At  the  house 
they  found  several  mountaineers  sitting  around, 
"swapping  lies"  about  their  varied  adventures. 
There  was  Fly,  the   mica-miner,  he   of  the  strong 


A  GREAT  DAY  FOR  TALKING.  89 

frame  and  equally  strong  lungs.  He  was  a  talker, 
and  the  tones  were  of  such  a  pitch  and  volume  that 
the  tops  of  the  highest  hills  echoed  them  back.  Then 
there  was  Levette,  called  for  short  "Cockeye." 
Levette  wanted  to  talk  and  was  continually  trying 
to  get  in  a  word,  but  he  was  entirely  too  slow  for  the 
crowd  he  was  now  with.  The  inevitable  "I  was 
just  goin'  to  say"  never  got  beyond  his  tongue's  end 
until  some  readier  talker  broke  in,  and  it  was  never 
known  what  he  was  going  to  say.  Eames,  who  had 
never  been  defeated  in  a  talking-match,  was  there, 
and  then  there  was  Harvey,  who  had  had  forty-nine 
years*  experience  at  it.  All  had  something  to  say, 
and  none  cared  what  the  others  had  done;  so  the 
result  was  that  all  talked  at  once.  Dyche  was  some- 
what of  a  talker  himself,  and  when  he  got  into  the 
crowd  he  was  anxious  to  tell  of  his  experience  at 
Beaty's  cabin.  The  result  of  all  this  was  that  when 
Mrs.  Harvey  announced  that  the  haunch  of  venison 
was  sufficiently  baked  and  that  dinner  was  ready, 
there  were  five  men  all  talking  at  the  top  of  their 
voices,  each  sandwiching  in  his  story  wherever  he 
got  an  opportunity.  While  Mrs.  Harvey  and  Mrs. 
Dyche  stood  in  the  door  of  the  kitchen  laughing  at 
the  exertions  of  the  talkers,  in  walked  Beaty. 

Now  Beaty  carried  off  the  palm  as  a  talker  in  that 
region,  and  when  he  began  all  others  were  compelled 
from  the  sheer  force  of  necessity  to  stop.  Beaty  had 
a  story  to  tell  and  he  told  it.  His  voice  soon  made 
itself  felt  in  the  general  pandemonium,  and  the 
others  gradually  quieted  down  until  he  had  the  floor 
to  himself.     But  he  talked  under  difficulties.     He 


90  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

would  hardly  get  started  before  someone  would  break 
in,  and  then  all  would  go  at  it  again. 

"  You  remember  when  I  left  you,  Professor.  Well, 
it  was  just  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  at  just 
two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  was  at  the  ranch, 
twenty-five  miles  down  the  Pecos. " 

Here  Fly  broke  in :  "  That  was  no  walking.  In 
California  I  walked  from  Elk  Creek  down  to  Gold 
Gulch,  forty-two  miles,  in  just  eight  hours  and " 

Here  someone  else  broke  in,  and  the  story  of  some 
great  walk  had  to  be  told  by  each  one,  and  Beaty 
was  compelled  to  wait  until  the  flood  passed  and 
then  started  fresh  again. 

"  At  the  ranch  I  found  my  old  partner,  Everhart, 
and  he  told  me  that  he  heard  I  was  sick  down  to 
Vegas.  He  sure  sent  a  boy  up  to  the  ranch  to  look 
after  things  until  I  could  get  back.  The  boy  stayed 
there  about  a  week  and  then  a  big  bear  came  around 
the  place  and  would  not  go  away,  although  he  shot 
at  it  through  the  window.  The  boy  was  scared,  and 
dug  a  hole  under  the  floor  and  buried  everything  in 
the  cabin  in  the  hole.  He  took  all  the  dirt  down  to 
the  river  andthrew  it  in  and  smoothed  the  place  over. 
Sometimes  he  wore  a  pair  of  my  old  shoes  and  made 
big  tracks  around  the  place. " 

"Well,  I  want  to  know!" 

"  By  the  great  wars !" 

"  I  was  just  goin'  to  say " 

"I  thought  you  could  have  smelled  it." 

"You  couldn't  smell  anything  but  brimetone 
around  there  when  Beaty  got  there." 

"  That  boy  knew  what  he  was  about. " 


A   GREAT  DAY  FOR  TALKING.  91 

"  He  sure  fooled  the  old  man." 

And  so  the  changes  were  rung  on  all  the  exclama- 
tions the  crowd  could  think  of.  The  talk  continued 
on  this  subject  until  dinner  was  over,  and  then  as  a 
fine,  drizzling  rain  was  falling,  conversation  drifted 
into  other  channels,  while  the  men  crowded  around 
the  big  fireplace.  Harvey  started  the  ball  by  laughing 
at  Fly's  hunt  after  a  bear. 

"  When  you  and  Brown  took  those  two  big  bears 
out  of  the  country  and  told  of  the  eleven  others  you 
had  seen,  these  fellows  up  here  thought  you  didn't 
know  a  thing  about  hunting  or  you  would  have  got 
the  whole  lot.  What  they  know  about  hunting  bear 
or  anything  else  I  don't  know,  but  from  the  way  they 
talked  you  would  have  thought  the  woods  were  full 
of  bear-hunters.  Fly,  Beaty,  Levette,  and  some  others 
got  up  a  big  bear-hunt,  and  from  the  preparations 
they  made  one  would  have  supposed  they  were  going 
to  have  all  the  game  in  the  woods.  They  were  each 
going  to  have  a  bear-skin  overcoat,  and  Rhea  and 
me  were  each  going  to  have  a  skin  apiece  for  rugs. 
They  borrowed  every  old  shooting-iron  on  the  place 
except  that  old  cap-and-ball  pistol  of  mine  and  started 
out.  They  wouldn't  take  provisions  with  them,  for 
they  said  it  was  a  mighty  poor  hunter  that  couldn't 
kill  his  own  meat.  They  all  'lowed  that  the  pro- 
fessor was  a  good  deer-hunter,  but  he  didn't  know  a 
little  bit  about  bear.  As  they  pulled  out  up  the  hill, 
Fly  he  hollered  back  to  Rhea  and  said:  *When  you 
see  us  coming  down  the  mountain  put  the  skillet  on 
with  plenty  of  grease,  for  we'll  have  bear-liver  for 
supper. ' 


92  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

"  Well,  when  they  got  away  I  took  your  old  bear- 
trap  down  the  canon  and  set  it.  A  bear  had  been 
around  the  night  before  where  a  calf  had  died,  and  I 
thought  I  might  get  him  in  the  trap.  We  got  a 
bear  in  the  trap  sure  enough,  and  when  they  came 
down  the  mountain  Rhea  had  a  good  mess  of  liver  in 
the  pan  frying  for  them.  Talk  about  hungry  wolves. 
Those  fellers  were  the  hungriest  set  you  ever  saw. 
They  hadn't  had  a  square  meal  since  they  left,  and 
as  soon  as  they  got  in  the  house  they  began  grabbing 
everything  in  sight.  They  couldn't  wait  for  dinner, 
but  took  cheese,  crackers,  and  everything  else  they 
could  lay  their  hands  on.  Well,  they  sat  down  and 
began  eating.  They  couldn't  tell  what  kind  of  meat 
it  was.  They  thought  it  tasted  like  liver,  but  knew 
I  hadn't  butchered,  and  when  they  asked,  we  told 
them  it  was  the  bear's  liver  they  told  us  to  cook." 

The  others  here  broke  in  with  so  many  interrup- 
tions that  Harvey  was  compelled  to  desist.  But  he 
had  told  his  story,  and  now  it  was  Fly's  time  to  tell 
what  he  knew. 

"  I'll  tell  you  that  story  straight.  I've  been  listen- 
ing to  them  talk  for  the  last  two  years  and  I've  got 
the  whole  thing  straight.  I'm  onto  the  true  in- 
wardness of  the  whole  business.  We  had  a  hard 
time  up  in  the  mountains  after  the  bear  we  didn't 
get,  and  when  we  got  back  we  had  the  bear-liver  for 
supper  all  right  enough,  but  you  never  saw  two  such 
scared  people  in  all  your  born  days  as  Harvey  and 
his  wife.  I  knew  there  was  something  back  of  their 
story,  so  I  just  kept  my  ears  open,  and  this  is  the 
story  of  'how  we  killed  the  bear. ' 


A  QBE  AT  DAY  FOE  TALKING.  93 

"  Harvey  set  the  trap  down  the  canon  and  an  old 
foolish  black  bear  came  along  and  got  his  foot  in 
it.  Next  morning  Harvey  went  down  to  milk,  and 
when  he  saw  that  the  trap  was  gone  he  ran  back  and 
went  clear  through  the  house  before  he  could  stop. 
He  dropped  the  milk-pails  and  went  yelling  at  every 
jump,  so  badly  scared  that  he  almost  fainted.  Mrs. 
Harvey  was  so  frightened  that  she  couldn't  say  a 
word.  Harvey  ran  to  the  gun-rack  and  then  began 
cussin'  us  fellows  for  taking  away  all  his  guns.  Then 
he  tore  around  in  the  bedroom  and  out  in  the  kitchen 
until  Mrs.  Harvey  found  her  voice  and  asked: 
*  What's  the  trouble.  High?'  'A  bear!  a  bear!'  was 
all  the  answer  she  got,  for  just  then  Harvey  found 
his  pistol  and  bolted  off  down  after  the  bear.  Mrs. 
Harvey  followed  with  the  axe,  calling  for  High  to 
come  back  or  he  would  be  killed. 

"  They  rushed  down  to  the  corral  where  the  trap 
had  been,  and  sure  enough  it  was  gone.  'It  was 
right  here,  Rhea.  See,  it  is  gone.  Look  where  he 
tore  up  the  brush.  There  he  is — there  he  is !  Get 
back,  Rhea;  you  don't  know  anything  about  hunting 
bear.  Get  back,  I  say :  if  he  should  get  here  he  would 
kill  you, '  Harvey  kept  yelling  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
and  then  Mrs.  Harvey  would  chime  in,  telling  Harvey 
to  keep  back  or  he  would  be  killed.  She  grabbed  his 
arm  and  hung  on,  telling  him  not  to  go  close  to  the 
bear,  and  then  Allie  came  running  down  to  see  what 
it  was  all  about,  and  Mrs.  Harvey  had  a  time  of  it 
trying  to  keep  them  both  from  the  bear.  Harvey 
shot  all  six  loads  from  the  revolver  into  the  bear,  but 
it  never  stopped  him.     Then  they  had  to  go  back  to 


94  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

the  house  to  load  up  again.  Mrs.  Harvey  begged 
High  to  let  AUie  go  over  to  Hanson's  ranch  for 
help,  and  this  made  Harvey  mad,  because  she  thought 
he  was  not  able  to  kill  his  own  bear.  Harvey  put 
six  more  balls  into  the  bear,  and  by  this  time  the 
poor  fellow  got  tangled  up  with  the  trap-chain  and 
Harvey  knocked  him  in  the  head  with  an  axe."     . 

"  Well,  I  want  to  know !"  said  Harvey.  *'  Do  you 
believe  that  story,  Dyche?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  how  you  killed  it,  Harvey,  but 
I  do  know  that  you  sent  me  a  fine  black  bear-skin 
with  a  dozen  bullet-holes  in  it.  The  skull  had  been 
mashed,  too." 

Dyche  decided  to  make  another  trip  to  old  Camp 
Bear  Trail  before  the  summer  was  over.  The  even- 
ing before  the  start  was  made  Dyche  took  the  shot- 
gun, loaded  with  dust-shot,  and  went  around  the 
meadow  looking  for  bird  specimens.  Eames  was 
carrying  the  rifle  and  wandered  off  to  one  side. 
Suddenly  Dyche  heard  the  well-known  "thump, 
thump"  of  a  frightened  deer  as  it  dashed  through 
the  wood,  and  he  hurried  to  the  edge  of  the  timber  to 
get  a  look  at  it.  An  old  doe  was  just  disappearing 
in  the  woods,  and  about  thirty  yards  behind  her  was 
a  beautiful  fawn.  About  the  same  distance  back  of 
the  fawn  was  Eames,  going  at  break-neck  speed, 
shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Here,  here  it  is. 
Professor !"  The  doe  bounded  over  the  pole  fence, 
and  the  fawn  ran  along  trying  to  find  a  hole  to  go 
through. 

"  Quick,  give  me  the  rifle, "  said  Dyche. 

"The  rifle?  why,  I  set  it  down  by  the  fence  and 


A  GREAT  DAY  FOR  TALKING.  95 

tried  to  catch  the  fawn.  I'd  have  got  it,  too,  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  the  fence." 

"  Catch  the  wind !  Why,  that  fawn  can  outrun 
any  man.  The  old  doe  would  have  been  as  easily 
caught." 

"Don't  you  fool  yourself.  I'd  have  caught  it, 
sure. " 

"  Our  old  dog  Jack  has  tried  to  catch  that  fawn 
a  dozen  times,"  said  Allie,  "but  he  never  gets  any 
nearer  to  it  than  you  were. " 

A  disagreeable  incident  marred  the  pleasure  of  the 
final  visit  to  Camp  Bear  Trail,  and  Mrs.  Dyche  had 
occasion  to  learn  by  experience  what  a  real  mountain 
storm  could  do.  While  the  train  was  passing 
through  a  tract  of  burned  timber,  where  there  was 
no  shelter  of  any  kind,  a  storm  broke  suddenly,  the 
first  warning  being  a  clap  of  thunder.  It  rained  a 
little  and  then  hail  poured  down  as  if  from  an  ele- 
vator chute.  Eames  and  Dyche  bunched  the  burros 
and  covered  them  with  rubber  blankets,  and  under 
this  hastily  improvised  shelter  Mrs.  Dyche  crawled, 
staying  until  the  storm  was  over.  It  lasted  for  half 
an  hour  and  then  continued  with  intermissions, 
alternately  raining  and  hailing  all  the  afternoon. 
It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  a  fire  was  started 
at  the  old  camp,  and,  suffering  with  toothache, 
earache,  and  headache,  Mrs.  Dyche  longed  for  civ- 
ilisation. 

Rain  continued  so  steadily  that  they  decided  to 
return  to  Harvey's,  and  the  party  reached  there, wet, 
bedraggled,  and  worn  out.  While  making  their 
arrangements  to  return  to  civilisation,  the  mountain 


96  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

streams  were  running  torrents  from  the  heavy  rains. 
Over  the  top  of  Hermit's  Peak  rushed  a  magnificent 
waterfall,  about  eight  feet  broad  at  the  top,  changing 
to  a  fine  mist  before  it  reached  the  bottom  of  the 
canon,  a  thousand  feet  below. 


a 


CHAPTER  VII. 

In  Indian  Territory — A  Frontier  Fiddler — Life  in  a  Dugout — 
Wild  Turkeys,  Wildcats,  and  other  Wild  Things— Surviv- 
ing a  Blizzard — An  Indian  Dance — An  Embarrassed  Pro- 
fessor— Successful  Hunting — The  Extinction  of  the  Wild 
Turkey. 

|N  the  approach  of  the  next  Christmas  va- 
cation, Dyche  arranged  to  make  a  collec- 
tion of  the  noblest  game-bird  in  the 
world,  the  American  wild  turkey.  With 
Professor  Robinson,  a  veteran  quail  and  rabbit  hunter, 
he  started  for  the  Indian  Territory,  and  a  raw  Decem- 
ber day  found  the  two  at  Caldwell,  Kansas,  wrestling 
with  a  mob  of  hackmen  and  omnibus  drivers.  This 
was  the  terminus  of  the  railroad  leading  to  the  land 
of  the  Indians. 

Engaging  a  light  wagon,  drawn  by  a  stout  pair  of 
"  buckskin"  ponies,  they  reached  Pond  Creek  just  at 
dusk  on  the  following  day.  A  "  dance"  was  in  pro- 
gress, and  had  been  going  on  for  the  last  twenty-four 
hours.  A  tall  Arkansan,  called  "  Short"  on  account 
of  his  size,  was  sawing  away  industriously  at  a  fiddle, 
producing  sounds  which,  by  a  good  stretch  of  a  vivid 
imagination,  might  be  called  music.  The  vigour 
of  the  dancers  was  evidence  that  his  well-meant 
efforts  were  fully  appreciated  by  the  congregated 
cowboys  and  their  partners.     It  was  the  event  of  the 

97 


98  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

season,  and  visitors  were  there  from  ranches  miles 
away.  Cowboys  and  Cherokee  half-breeds  were  out 
in  full  force,  and,  to  supply  a  deficiency  of  ladies, 
dresses  were  put  on  several  of  the  cowboys,  who  acted 
the  feminine  part  to  the  satisfaction  of  all. 

"Short  don't  play  music  outen  er  book,"  volun- 
teered the  lady  of  the  house,  "  but  he  plays  real  tunes. 
He  don't  know  a  note  from  a  cow-track,  but  he  gets 
every  thin'  outen  er  fiddle  there  is  in  it,  he  does.  He's 
ther  best  fiddler  in  the  hull  country,  he  is,  and  he 
allers  stops  till  ther  dance  is  done,  too,  he  does.  This 
is  nothin'  now.  You  jest  orter  bin  here  las'  night. 
There  were  over  fifty  here,  and  ther  cowboys  thet 
danced  for  girls  was  real  good  ones,  too.  It  was 
ther  best  dance  we  ever  had.  Some  er  ther  boys  got 
a  little  too  much  licker,  but  ever 'thin'  went  off  real 
nice." 

Short  continued  his  fiddling,  and  the  cowboys  kept 
time  to  the  rhythm  by  patting  their  feet  and  hands, 
making  such  a  noise  that  the  tired  travellers  could  not 
sleep.  During  the  progress  of  the  entertainment  a 
deputy  sheriff  came  in  with  a  prisoner,  whom  he 
was  taking  to  Caldwell  to  jail.  The  ofiicer  got  so 
interested  in  the  dancing  that  he  forgot  his  prisoner, 
and  the  latter  coolly  walked  out  of  the  door  and  dis- 
appeared. He  was  not  missed  for  some  time,  and 
then  search  was  made  for  him  with  a  lantern,  but  he 
made  good  use  of  his  time  and  was  not  found. 

Thompson's  ranch,  on  the  Cimarron  River,  sixty 
miles  away,  had  been  determined  upon  as  headquar- 
ters for  the  hunt,  and  as  the  noise  of  the  dancing  pre- 
vented sleep,  Dyche  and  the  professor  started  early. 


LIFE  IN  A  DUGOUT.  99 

and  at  daj^break  were  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  The 
road  went  directly  to  the  water's  edge,  and  could  be 
seen  emerging  from  the  other  side,  almost  imme- 
diately opposite.  Confident  that  they  were  at  the 
ford  the  hunters  drove  in.  The  water  was  soon  up 
to  the  sides  of  the  horses,  and  the  wagon  was  almost 
floating.  There  was  evidently  a  mistake  somewhere, 
but  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  go  on,  and  after 
a  hard  struggle  the  opposite  bank  was  reached.  They 
afterwards  learned  that  the  road  went  down  the  river 
some  distance  before  it  crossed,  and  then  came  back 
on  the  other  side  to  the  point  where  it  could  be  seen. 

Thompson's  ranch  was  reached  at  dark.  The 
house,  or  dugout,  was  a  hole  in  a  bank  with  a  door 
in  front,  but  no  windows.  It  was  filled  with  cow- 
boys, who  were  very  hospitable  and  helped  to  care  for 
the  ponies  and  got  supper  for  the  travellers.  Pipes 
were  brought  out  after  supper,  and  the  ill-ventilated 
room  was  soon  so  filled  with  smoke  that  Dyche  and 
the  professor,  who  were  not  smokers,  were  compelled 
to  make  frequent  trips  to  the  open  air  for  a  chance  to 
breathe. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  it  was  learned  that 
there  was  a  turkey-roost  about  two  miles  down  the 
creek,  and  one  of  the  cowboys  volunteering  to  guide 
the  hunters,  they  made  the  trip.  They  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  a  lot  of  squirrel  nests,  and  returned 
to  the  hut  after  midnight. 

Early  next  morning,  with  heads  dull  from  sleep- 
ing in  the  atmosphere  of  tobacco  smoke,  Dyche  and 
Robinson  started  for  a  hunt  with  cowboy  guides. 
Robinson  and  Cimarron  Jim  went  down  the  river, 


100  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

while  Dyche  and  Buckskin  Joe  took  the  opposite 
direction.  While  working  along  through  the  patches 
of  scrub -oak  and  over  sand  ridges,  the  latter  two  sud- 
denly came  upon  a  flock  of  about  seventy-five  turkeys. 
Joe  at  once  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  rode  after 
them.  Dyche  was  compelled  to  follow,  and  after  a 
chase  of  about  two  hundred  yards  they  were  almost 
on  the  turkeys.  They  jumped  from  their  horses,  but 
before  they  could  get  their  guns  ready  the  turkeys 
disappeared  over  a  hill.  The  race  was  repeated  with 
the  same  success  several  times.  At  last  Joe  shot 
from  his  horse,  and  the  flock  flew  and  sailed  out  of 
sight  over  the  thicket  of  oak  bushes.  A  query  from 
D^^che  elicited  the  answer  that  this  was  one  of  the 
chief  ways  of  hunting  vrild  turkeys  among  the  cow- 
boys. 

A  mile  further  they  came  upon  three  deer  feeding, 
and  were  within  seventy-five  yards  of  them  when 
they  were  seen.  Without  waiting  for  the  man  whom 
he  was  engaged  to  guide,  Joe  jumped  from  his  saddle 
and  pumped  bullets  after  the  deer  as  fast  as  he  could 
work  the  lever  of  his  Winchester.  The  deer  disap- 
peared over  the  hill,  but  Joe  affirmed  that  he  had 
shot  one  through  behind  the  shoulders,  while  he  had 
hit  another  twice  as  it  was  going  over  the  hill. 
Tying  the  horses  to  a  swinging  limb  the  trail  of  the 
deer  was  followed,  but  no  sign  of  blood  or  a  wounded 
animal  was  to  be  found. 

The  day  was  cold,  but  the  unusual  exercise  of  walk- 
ing heated  Joe  to  such  an  extent  that  he  took  off  his 
overcoat  and  hung  it  to  a  tree.  Half  a  mile  further  on 
he  discarded  his  chqperellos,  or  leggings,  and  hung 


LIFE  IN  A  DUGOUT.  101 

them  up,  intending  to  return  for  them  on  his  horse. 
It  soon  became  evident,  however,  that  the  cowboy 
was  lost  and  could  not  find  the  horses.  Dyche  and 
Joe  not  being  able  to  agree  as  to  the  proper  direction 
to  take,  separated  with  the  understanding  that  a 
signal  shot  was  to  be  fired  when  the  horses  were 
found. 

After  an  hour's  walking  Dyche  found  Joe's  horse, 
loose  and  grazing,  but  his  own  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  His  signal  brought  the  cowboy,  who  imme- 
diately mounted  the  animal  and  rode  off  after  his 
clothing,  saying  that  he  would  return  and  take  Dyche 
to  camp.  As  night  was  now  coming  on  Dyche  did 
not  wait,  but  started  for  the  ranch,  which  he  reached 
just  at  dark.  It  was  three  hours  later  when  Joe 
came  in,  tired  out  and  without  either  overcoat  or 
leggings. 

At  midnight  the  noise  made  by  some  one  stumbling 
into  the  dugout  aroused  everyone.  It  was  Robin- 
son, who  was  almost  exhausted.  He  and  Cimarron 
Jim  had  intended  to  stay  all  night  at  the  hog  ranch, 
but  the  guide  got  lost  and  wandered  away,  leaving 
the  professor  to  look  out  for  himself.  Finding  neither 
hogs,  ranch,  nor  man,  the  professor  made  his  way 
back  to  the  home  ranch,  leaving  his  blankets  with 
Jim.  Knowing  that  the  professor  needed  rest,  Dyche 
gave  up  his  sleeping-bag  and  said  he  would  go  out 
and  hunt  a  little.  As  he  shut  the  door  he  heard  one 
of  the  cowboys  remark : 

"Well,  that  feller  wants  turkeys  worse  than  I  do." 

The  night  was  cold  and  frosty,  and  the  stars  gave 
sufficient  light  for  Dyche  to  make  his  way  up  Turkey 


102  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

Creek.  He  walked  slowly,  examining  all  the  hawk 
nests  and  other  bunches  in  the  trees,  which  in  the 
dim  light  took  on  odd  shapes,  and  in  some  instances 
resembled  turkeys.  Everything  was  quiet,  and  not 
even  the  hoot  of  an  owl  broke  the  stillness.  While 
thinking  of  the  lonesomeness  a  scratching  and  scram- 
bling on  the  ice  of  the  creek  attracted  his  attention, 
and  Dyche  saw  a  black  object  moving  near  a  water- 
hole.  Thinking  it  was  a  raccoon  he  sent  a  load  of 
shot  at  it,  and  it  spread  out  on  the  ice.  Drawing  it 
ashore  with  a  long  pole,  Dyche  tied  its  legs  together 
and  prepared  to  hang  it  to  the  limb  of  a  tree,  when 
the  peculiar  feeling  of  its  tail  induced  him  to  light  a 
match  to  see  his  prize.  He  found  that  he  had  killed 
a  magnificent  otter. 

Wandering  up  the  creek  for  an  hour  or  two  longer, 
he  was  just  on  the  point  of  turning  back  when  he 
espied  a  large  object  roosting  in  the  top  of  a  tall  Cot- 
tonwood tree.  After  watching  it  for  some  time  he 
decided  that  it  was  a  big  gobbler  and  fired  a  shot 
at  it,  taking  the  best  aim  that  he  could  in  the  dim 
light.  The  bird  came  down  with  a  thump  which  told 
that  the  shot  had  been  fatal.  Tying  its  feet  together 
and  hanging  it  to  a  tree,  Dyche  found  by  the  light  of 
a  match  that  he  had  killed  a  large  golden  eagle. 

After  dinner  next  day  Dyche  started  alone  for  the 
jack-oak  thickets.  He  had  had  enough  of  cowboy 
guides  and  severed  all  connection  with  Joe.  He  made 
his  way  slowly  through  the  thicket,  over  the  low  sand- 
hills, for  two  or  three  miles.  Numerous  places  where 
turkeys  had  scratched  away  leaves  searching  for  food 
were  found.    An  occasional  coyote  was  seen  skulking 


WILD  TURKEYS,   WILDCATS,   ETC.  103 

through  the  bushes,  and  now  and  then  he  had 
glimpses  of  white-tailed  deer.  Golden  eagles  were 
sailing  above,  and  quails  and  prairie-chickens  were 
flushed  in  innumerable  coveys.  Finally  a  bunch  of 
twenty-five  turkeys  was  seen  running  over  a  hill, 
and  a  circuitous  route  was  taken  to  head  them  off.  A 
careful  stalk  placed  him  within  forty  yards  of  three 
of  the  birds  which  were  scratching  on  a  knoll,  when 
the  warning  "  pit,  pit  "  told  him  he  had  been  seen.  A 
load  of  shot  brought  down  a  fine  gobbler,  weighing 
eighteen  and  a  half  pounds.  As  this  was  Dyche's 
first  turkey  and  was  a  load  of  itself,  the  hunter  was 
satisfied  and  immediately  returned  to  the  ranch. 

Approaching  the  ranch,  he  heard  a  fusillade  which 
sounded  as  if  a  battle  was  in  progress.  Thirty  or  forty 
shots  were  fired  within  fifteen  minutes,  and  the  men 
were  evidently  working  their  Winchesters  as  rapidly 
as  possible.  Cimarron  Jim,  who  was  cooking,  had 
left  his  fire  and  was  saddling  his  horse,  while  the  others 
were  not  to  be  seen.  Dyche  and  Jim  were  soon  in 
the  saddle  and  going  in  the  direction  of  the  sound. 
At  the  head  of  a  ravine  were  the  two  other  cowboys, 
riding  and  shooting.  Jim  rode  straight  for  the 
scene,  while  Dyche  circled  around  the  head  of  the 
ravine,  which  he  reached  just  in  time  to  see  a  large 
wildcat  emerge  from  the  brush  and  start  across  the 
open  space.  Putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  Dyche 
headed  the  animal  off  and  started  it  in  another  direc- 
tion, towards  the  timber.  Again  riding  around  it  he 
drove  it  back,  and  while  thus  keeping  it  in  the  open- 
ing the  cowboys  on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge  were 
almost  splitting  their  throats  yelling.     Finally  the 


104  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

cat  made  a  straight  run  for  the  timber,  and  Dyche 
tried  a  flying  shot  at  it  with  a  charge  of  double- O 
shot,  which  tore  up  the  ground  all  around  the  animal. 
The  cat  immmediately  sat  down  and  began  to  snarl 
and  growl.  Riding  close,  Dyche  removed  all  the 
shot  from  a  cartridge  except  about  a  dozen  and  killed 
the  cat.  One  shot  from  the  first  load  had  hit  it  close 
to  the  spine,  causing  it  suddenly  to  sit  down. 

The  cowboys  insisted  that  there  was  another  cat  in 
the  thicket,  and  a  search  was  made  which  soon  drove 
the  animal  out.  It  came  running  along  a  cow- path 
towards  Dyche,  who  waited  until  the  animal  was 
within  twenty-five  feet  of  him.  Seeing  the  hunter 
the  cat  crouched  in  the  cow-path.  It  was  too  close 
for  a  shot  with  the  heavy  load  in  the  gun,  and  Dyche 
got  down  from  his  horse  and  began  extracting  the 
shot.  The  cat  waited,  showing  its  teeth  and  snarling, 
tmtil  a  dozen  number  3  shot  ended  its  career. 

Next  day  Dyche  found  a  buck  and  doe  and  killed 
the  former.  Robinson  came  in  with  two  fine  turkey 
hens,  and  these,  with  several  prairie-chickens  and 
other  small  game,  made  a  very  respectable  showing 
for  the  three-days'  hunt.  Robinson's  time  was  up, 
however,  and  he  was  compelled  to  return  to  his  home. 
Dyche  accompanied  him  to  Caldwell,  and  there  pre- 
pared for  a  longer  hunt.  He  made  arrangements 
with  three  white  men  and  an  Indian  for  transporta- 
tion to  Fort  Reno,  starting  the  same  afternoon  on  the 
journey  of  one  hundred  and  fifteen  miles. 

Dyche  had  discovered  that  a  man's  blankets  were 
considered  public  property,  and  in  order  to  get  rid  of 
troublesome  bedfellows  and  at  the  same  time  secure 


SURVIVING  A  BLIZZARD.  105 

the  greatest  possible  benefit  from  his  bed,  he  had  a 
sleeping-bag  made  of  his  bedding.  The  blankets 
were  sewed  together  in  the  shape  of  a  bag,  and  the 
whole  was  covered  with  heavy  canvas.  This  "  poke" 
excited  the  risibilities  of  his  companions,  but  Dyche 
had  the  satisfaction  of  getting  rid  of  certain  insects 
which  make  very  disagreeable  sleeping  companions. 
The  first  night's  camp  was  made  in  the  open  prairie, 
and  when  the  men  saw  how  warmly  Dyche  slept 
while  they  shivered  with  cold  all  night,  each  vowed 
he  would  have  a  "sleeping-poke"  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day 
a  blizzard  came  upon  them  suddenly,  while  they  were 
on  the  open  prairie  and  far  from  shelter.  The  blind- 
ing storm  soon  prevented  all  travel,  and  they  un- 
hitched the  horses,  tying  them  on  the  leeward  side 
of  the  wagons,  while  the  boxes  and  bags  from  the 
load  were  piled  up  as  a  partial  protection  from  the  cut- 
ting wind.  Putting  their  blankets  together,  the  three 
white  men  lay  down  "  spoon  fashion"  to  keep  warm. 
The  Indian  found  an  old  buffalo- wallow  and  spread 
his  blankets  there  in  the  high  grass  and  weeds. 
Dyche  followed  the  example  of  the  Indian  and 
crawled  into  his  sleeping-bag,  which  he  fastened 
down  by  the  canvas.  He  was  soon  fast  asleep,  and 
did  not  awaken  until  he  felt  the  Indian  pulling  at  his 
bedding  next  morning,  to  see  if  he  was  alive. 

The  others  were  all  alive,  but  were  so  cold  and 
worn  out  that  they  could  barely  stir.  Driving  to  the 
river  a  fire  was  started,  and  hot  coffee  and  breakfast 
soon  put  new  life  into  the  party.     Pushing  on  they 


106  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

reached  Darlington,  just  across  the  river  from  Fort 
Reno,  next  day,  Christmas  eve.  Dyche  had  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  the  Indian  agent.  Colonel  John  D. 
Miles,  who  immediately  took  charge  of  the  naturalist 
as  his  guest. 

Colonel  Miles  was  something  of  a  sportsrnan  him- 
self, and  readily  gave  information  regarding  the  game 
of  the  Territory.  His  advice  was  that  Dyche  should 
go  to  Fort  Cantonment,  and  arrangements  were  made 
that  night  with  the  driver  of  the  buckboard  that  car- 
ried the  mail,  to  take  the  hunter  the  sixty-five  miles 
across  the  country  to  the  fort. 

The  trip  was  to  be  made  in  one  day,  and  the  sour- 
visaged  driver  seemed  doubtful  as  to  Dyche's  abil- 
ity to  stand  it ;  but  the  latter  said  he  could  if  any- 
one else  could,  and  they  started.  After  ten  miles  of 
the  roughest  riding  Dyche  had  ever  experienced,  he 
got  out  a  strap  and  fastened  himself  to  the  seat.  The 
cold  wind  blew  across  the  bleak  prairie  at  the  rate  of 
forty  miles  an  hour,  and  by  the  time  the  half-way 
dugout  was  reached  the  naturalist  was  chilled  to  the 
bone.  The  driver  told  him  that  they  changed  drivers 
and  teams  there,  and  that  if  he  thought  he  could  not 
stand  the  rest  of  the  trip  he  could  stay  there  until  the 
next  change,  two  days  later.  Dyche  thanked  him 
for  the  offer,  but  said  he  thought  he  could  go  the 
rest  of  the  way.  On  a  table  in  the  dugout  was  a  big 
corn-pone  and  an  immense  turkey,  cooked  to  perfec- 
tion. He  needed  no  second  invitation  from  the 
young  man  who  was  preparing  to  take  the  old 
driver's  place,  to  help  himself.  With  the  drumstick 
and  second  joint  in  one  hand  and  a  huge  piece  of 


SURVIVING  A  BLIZZARD.  107 

corn-bread  in  the  other,  he  prepared  to  eat  his  Christ- 
mas dinner  as  he  travelled. 

The  change  of  drivers  was  very  acceptable,  for  the 
young  fellow  told  many  stories  of  interesting  inci- 
dents of  life  among  the  Indians.  While  they  were 
ascending  a  steep  bank  after  crossing  a  small  stream, 
the  young  fellow  began  peering  into  the  bushes,  and 
remarked  that  there  were  a  good  many  deer  in  that 
vicinity.     Suddenly  he  stopped  and  whispered : 

"  There's  one  now.     Don't  you  see  him?" 

Looking  in  the  direction  pointed,  Dyche  saw  a 
magnificent  pair  of  antlers  and  a  large  body  dimly 
showing  in  the  bushes. 

"  Get  down  quick  and  get  out  your  gun, "  whispered 
the  driver.     "  He's  a  big  fellow." 

As  the  guns  were  strapped  under  the  seat,  Dyche 
answered  that  it  was  too  cold  and  he  was  too  stiff 
to  shoot.  Driving  towards  the  deer  the  young  man 
showed  a  cunningly  contrived  ruse.  A  deer's  antlers 
were  fastened  to  a  stump  and  a  gunny-sack  formed 
the  body. 

"  I  have  seen  over  a  hundred  shots  fired  at  that 
deer,"  said  he,  and  from  the  appearance  of  the  trees 
and  bushes  in  the  vicinity  he  undoubtedly  told  the 
truth.  The  fort  was  reached  just  at  dark,  and  Dyche 
was  cared  for  by  Decker,  the  Indian  trader. 

For  three  days  a  blizzard  howled,  and  during  that 
time  all  hunting  was  an  impossibility;  but  Dyche 
spent  the  time  of  enforced  idleness  in  getting  ac- 
quainted with  the  Indians  of  the  vicinity,  and  learn- 
ing from  them  the  condition  of  the  country  and  the 
haunts  of  game.     When  the  storm  broke,  Dyche  took 


108  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

the  advice  of  Little  Raven,  an  Arrapahoe  chief,  and 
went  to  the  big  cattle  ranch  of  Dickey  brothers  with 
Sam  Horton,  the  foreman,  who  had  been  detained  at 
the  fort  during  the  storm. 

The  ranch  occupied  a  stretch  of  country  fifty  miles 
square,  and  the  home  ranch  was  a  cluster  of  eight  or 
ten  log  houses  and  stables,  where  the  men  congregated 
during  the  winter.  This  was  headquarters,  and  was 
the  base  of  supplies  for  the  outlying  ranches.  Half 
a  mile  from  this  ranch  was  the  winter  camp  of  old 
Coho,  a  Cheyenne  chief  of  great  importance,  and  this 
camp  was  the  place  of  resort  and  amusement  for  the 
thirty  or  forty  men  who  made  the  home  ranch  their 
abiding-place  during  the  winter. 

The  ranch  was  reached  just  before  supper,  and  the 
meal  was  hardly  over  when  the  men  began  leaving 
by  twos  and  threes,  until  the  house  was  deserted  by 
all  except  Dyche,  Horton,  and  the  old  French  cook, 
who,  in  response  to  Dyche's  inquiries  for  the  rea- 
son of  this  strange  disappearance,  said  "  the  squaw 
bumpers  gone  to  the  Injun  dance." 

Horton  proposed  that  they  should  also  go  to  see  the 
fun,  and  the  two  were  soon  at  the  tepee  of  old  Coho, 
which  they  entered  without  ceremony.  Horton  pre- 
sented Dyche  to  the  old  chief,  who  sat  on  a  roll  of 
blankets  between  his  two  daughters,  Zilpha  and  Cesso- 
nia.  The  chief  was  attired  in  buckskin  leggings,  with 
a  blanket  wrapped  around  his  shoulders,  while  the 
two  young  squaws  were  dressed  in  pink  calico  gowns 
with  red  striped  shawls  thrown  over  their  heads. 
Around  the  tepee  sat  other  bucks  and  squaws,  dressed 
much  after  the  fashion  of  whites,  with  the  exception 


AN  INDIAN  DANCE.  109 

that  all  wore  moccasins  and  had  blankets  instead  of 
overcoats. 

After  paying  his  respects  to  the  old  chieftain, 
Dyche  followed  the  advice  of  Horton  and  purchased 
two  pairs  of  moccasins  from  the  girls,  paying  double 
price  therefor,  and  thus  winning  the  old  fellow's 
favour.  Following  the  presentation  the  whole  party 
went  to  a  large  tepee,  where  the  dance  was  to  be 
given.  In  the  centre  of  a  room  about  thirty  feet  in 
diameter  was  built  a  fire  in  the  most  economical 
fashion,  the  sticks  radiating  from  the  blaze  like 
spokes  in  a  wheel.  Around  the  wall,  on  rolls  of 
blankets,  sat  about  twenty-five  squaws  and  two-thirds 
as  many  cowboys,  with  a  number  of  young  bucks. 
The  sound  of  the  "devil's  fiddle,"  a  peculiar  drum 
made  from  a  hollow  log  over  which  are  stretched  raw 
cowskins,  was  heard.  Around  this  drum  sat  five 
Indians  with  short  sticks,  and  they  monotonously 
beat  the  drum  in  perfect  unison,  hitting  it  at  inter- 
vals of  about  a  second  and  a  half  in  regular  time,  the 
"thump,  thump"  filling  the  whole  room.  To  assist 
in  the  musical  effort  the  five  bucks  set  up  a  howl, 
prolonged,  guttural,  and  undulating,  rising  and  fall- 
ing with  regular  rhythm  and  cadence.  In  this  song 
the  other  bucks  joined  at  intervals  at  their  pleasure,, 
while  occasionally  the  squaws  would  unite  their  high 
falsetto  voices  in  a  most  peculiar  sound  which  they 
produced  with  lips  and  teeth  and  the  tips  of  their 
fingers  inserted  in  their  mouths.  The  scene  was 
weird  in  the  extreme,  and  the  darkened  tepee,  filled 
with  a  motley  crowd  of  red  and  white  men,  sitting  in 
the  flitting  lights  and  shadows  of  the  fire  and  listen- 


110  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

ing  to  the  wild,  barbaric  music,  brought  back  to  the 
mind  of  the  naturalist  the  scenes  with  which  he  had 
been  so  familiar  in  childhood. 

The  monotonous  sound  increased  in  volume,  and 
then  the  signal  for  the  dance  was  given.  Two  squaws 
selected  one  man,  and  the  three  took  their  places  in 
the  circle,  continuing  until  the  circle  was  complete. 
The  ten  cowboys  and  their  twenty  squaws  then  began 
a  peculiar  "  crow-hopping  "  dance,  varied  with  a  heel- 
and-toe  motion,  each  movement  being  made  in  uni- 
son, the  circle  rising  and  falling  to  the  sound  of  the 
drum.  For  an  hour  the  performance  continued, 
and  then  an  intermission  was  taken,  while  one 
of  the  musicians  passed  a  hat — this  was  the  only 
ceremony  which  he  had  retained  from  the  teaching 
of  the  missionaries.  The  result  of  the  collection  be- 
ing satisfactory,  the  performance  began  again,  and 
continued  with  these  hourly  intermissions  and  hat- 
passings  until  daylight. 

In  the  intermissions  the  squaws  varied  the  enter- 
tainment by  occasionally  throwing  their  shawls 
over  the  heads  of  the  cowboys,  as  an  intima- 
tion that  on  the  payment  of  a  quarter  the  cowboy 
could  have  the  privilege  of  kissing  the  squaw.  To 
Dyche  the  price  seemed  exorbitant,  but  the  cowboy 
taste  appeared  to  be  different,  and  they  eagerly  ac- 
cepted the  invitation.  During  the  evening  the 
naturalist  had  been  an  interested  onlooker,  with  no 
idea  of  joining  in  the  fun ;  but  Zilpha  and  Cessonia 
had  been  so  favourably  impressed  with  his  generosity 
in  giving  them  double  price  for  their  moccasins  that 
they  asked  him  to  be  their  partner  in  a  dance.     He 


AN  EMBARRASSED  PROFESSOR.  Ill 

was  disposed  to  decline,  but  Horton  advised  him 
uot  to  offend  them,  as  they  had  paid  a  very  high 
compliment  to  a  stranger.  Giving  a  reluctant  con- 
sent he  took  his  place  in  the  ring,  and  the  lu- 
dicrous figure  cut  by  the  hunter  was  such  that 
Indians  and  cowboys  kept  up  one  continuous  howl 
of  laughter. 

Horton,  meanwhile,  was  scheming  to  have  a  little 
more  fun  at  the  expense  of  the  innocent  naturalist, 
and  while  the  latter 's  attention  was  distracted,  he 
gave  Cessonia  a  dollar  to  catch  Dyche  and  kiss  him, 
while  to  Zilpha  was  given  fifty  cents  to  assist  in  the 
operation.  Sitting  by  the  side  of  Dyche,  Cessonia 
suddenly  whirled  her  shawl  over  his  head  and  tried 
to  draw  him  to  her.  He  was  too  quick  for  her,  how- 
ever, and  slipped  to  the  ground  and  out  of  the  shawl. 
Then  began  a  race  which  afforded  more  amusement 
for  the  assembled  cowboys  and  Indians  than  they  had 
had  for  years.  A  second  throw  of  the  shawl,  supple- 
mented by  Zilpha's  strength,  held  Dyche.  The  two 
squaws,  who  had  arms  like  prize-fighters,  were  more 
than  a  match  for  the  naturalist,  and  they  got  him  to  the 
floor,  where,  after  rolling  over  the  ground  from  one 
side  to  the  other,  and  almost  tearing  down  the  tepee 
in  their  struggles,  Cessonia  succeeded  in  planting  a 
kiss  all  over  one  side  of  Dyche 's  face,  from  the  mouth 
to  the  ear. 

Fully  satisfied  with  what  he  had  seen  and  experi- 
enced, Dyche  decided  to  return  to  the  ranch,  and  to 
aU  of  Horton's  entreaties  to  wait  for  supper,  which 
was  just  then  brought  in,  he  turned  a  deaf  ear.  This 
supper  was  a  leirge  kettle  of  meat  and  soup,  flanked 


113  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

by  stacks  of  thin  loaves  of  bread,  all  of  which  was 
eagerly  eaten  by  the  assembled  guests. 

A  wagon  of  supplies  was  sent  to  Loco  camp,  about 
fifteen  miles  away,  and  Dyche  went  there  with  a 
letter  from  Horton  to  the  man  in  charge.  The  hunt- 
ing outfit  was  shipped  on  the  wagon,  while  Dyche  fol- 
lowed on  "old  Weazel,"  a  horse  highly  recommended 
for  his  good  qualities.  During  the  following  ten 
days  Dyche  had  no  cause  to  regret  his  selection,  for 
the  horse  was  a  perfect  hunter. 

He  was  now  in  the  heart  of  the  turkey  country, 
and  a  preliminary  skirmish  that  evening  convinced 
him  that  there  were  several  fiocks  in  the  vicinity. 
Early  next  morning  he  rode  to  Wolf  Creek,  four  miles 
away,  and  while  travelling  carefully  he  suddenly 
came  upon  a  fiock  of  twenty-five  or  thirty  turkeys, 
scratching  under  a  bunch  of  jack-oak  trees.  He  was 
seen,  however,  and  in  order  to  get  around  them  he 
rode  back  out  of  sight,  and  then  made  a  careful  stalk. 
He  was  disappointed,  and  when  he  reached  the  place 
where  the  birds  had  been,  they  had  disappeared. 
One  turkey  was  soon  seen  running  over  a  distant 
ridge,  and  Dyche  hurried  after  it,  getting  another 
sight  just  as  it  was  going  over  a  second  hill.  A 
quick  shot  secured  it,  and  with  the  sound  half  a 
dozen  others  rose  from  the  grass  and  weeds,  and  one 
more  was  killed  as  they  started  to  fly  over  the  hilL 
Carrying  his  two  specimens,  which  were  fine  old  hens, 
to  the  horse,  Dyche  started  for  the  ranch,  satisfied 
with  his  first  day's  work.  On  the  way  down  the 
creek  he  noticed  another  flock.  Hiding  in  the  bushes 
he  watched  them  for  over  an  hour,  noticing  especially 


SUCCESSFUL  HUNTING.  113 

their  carriage  and  modes  of  living.  He  was  satis- 
fied with  his  study  and  a  fine  gobbler  was  killed. 
He  took  the  three  birds  to  the  ranch,  where  they 
were  prepared  for  future  use.  From  the  contents  of 
the  crops  of  the  birds  it  was  seen  that  the  winter 
food  consisted  principally  of  acorns,  a  pint  of  which, 
shells  and  all,  were  found  in  each  crop.  With  these 
were  seeds  of  various  plants,  and  one  had  eaten  freely 
of  wild  grapes,  which  hung  dried  on  the  vines. 

Next  morning  Dyche  went  again  to  Wolf  Creek, 
and  leaving  Weazel  feeding  at  the  mouth  of  the 
stream  in  a  grassy  spot,  he  went  up  the  creek  on  foot. 
A  turkey  calling  in  the  distance  attracted  his  atten- 
tion, and  while  stalking  it  he  came  upon  a  large  flock 
of  over  a  hundred  birds  on  a  sand-bar,  where  they 
were  sunning  themselves.  Some  were  scratching 
and  dusting  their  feathers,  while  others  walked  about 
and  picked  up  morsels  of  food.  Occasionally  an  old 
hen  would  raise  her  head  and  give  a  loud  call.  Fully 
an  hour  was  consumed  in  working  around  to  a  high 
bank,  fifty  yards  from  the  flock,  and  here  Dyche  lay 
for  some  time  watching  the  movements  of  the  birds. 
Selecting  a  bunch  of  five,  he  sent  a  load  of  double-  O 
shot  into  it.  There  was  a  roar  as  of  a  cyclone  as 
that  magnificent  flock  rose  into  the  air  and  sailed 
away.  He  sent  the  load  from  the  other  barrel  after 
them,  and  the  double  volley  brought  down  four  hens, 
which  made  a  heavy  load  to  carry  back  to  the  place 
where  he  had  left  the  horse.  On  the  way  down  the 
creek  a  fine  gobbler  was  added  to  the  bag,  being  shot 
on  the  wing  as  it  started  to  fly. 

Next  day  the  same  ground  was  worked  again,  and 


114  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

two  hens  were  killed  out  of  a  bunch  which  started  out 
of  the  bushes.  A  few  yards  farther  on  a  gray  wolf 
came  trotting  down  the  ravine,  and  was  knocked  over 
with  a  load  of  shot ;  but  before  Dyche  could  get  to 
him  he  recovered  his  feet  and  went  into  the  brush. 
A  large  amount  of  blood  was  left,  but  the  animal  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  away.  Two  more  turkeys,  fine 
gobblers,  were  shot  on  the  return,  after  dark,  from 
the  trees  where  they  were  roosting. 

The  following  day  was  lost  by  going  out  with  the 
cowboys  hunting  deer,  and  the  sixth  day  was  so 
stormy  that  all  were  compelled  to  keep  in -doors. 
Next  day  found  Dyche  again  on  Wolf  Creek,  and 
while  watching  for  a  flock  of  turkeys  a  wolf  came 
down  the  ravine.  A  charge  of  double-0  shot  from 
"  old  Vesuvius"  knocked  him  over,  and  this  one  did 
not  get  up  again.  A  short  distance  further  a  flock  of 
turkeys  was  scared  out  of  the  bushes  and  a  hen  and 
gobbler  killed.  These  were  hung  to  a  tree  and  the 
hunt  continued.  Half  a  mile  farther  on  a  white- 
tailed  deer  was  seen  standing  on  its  hind-feet,  with 
its  fore- feet  swinging  in  the  air  as  it  nipped  the  buds 
from  the  lower  limbs  of  a  tree.  The  gun  had  turkey- 
shot  shells  in  the  barrels,  and  while  the  deer  was  not 
over  fifty  yards  away,  the  hunter  thought  he  would 
make  sure  of  it  by  changing  the  shells.  While  so 
doing  a  shot  slipped  into  the  lock,  but  during  five 
minutes  of  nervous  work  the  deer  did  not  get  scared 
and  continued  to  browse.  Both  barrels  were  fired 
to  make  sure  of  the  shot,  and  the  deer  dropped  dead 
within  fifty  yards  of  the  spot  where  it  had  been 
eating. 


SUCCESSFUL  HUNTING.  115 

Dyche  now  started  back  for  the  horse,  and  on  the 
way  down  killed  a  gobbler.  With  the  three  turkeys, 
a  deer,  and  a  wolf  on  the  horse  he  made  his  way  to- 
wards the  ranch  ;  but  before  reaching  it  secured  two 
more  of  the  beautiful  birds.  As  old  Weazel  had 
about  as  much  of  a  load  as  he  could  well  carry,  Dyche 
walked  the  seven  miles  to  the  ranch,  leading  the 
horse. 

Three  more  days  in  the  woods  added  four  turkeys 
and  a  wildcat  to  the  total.  The  results  of  the  hunt 
with  his  baggage  were  taken  to  Fort  Cantonment  in 
one  of  the  ranch  wagons,  and  just  as  he  reached 
there  a  big  freight  wagon  passed  along  from  the  ap- 
ple ranch,  going  to  Caldwell  for  supplies.  The  driver 
was  lonesome  and  was  glad  of  Dyche 's  company,  so 
a  bargain  was  soon  struck  and  the  luggage  piled  in 
the  wagon. 

Ten  days  of  uncomfortable  travelling,  during  which 
the  whole  outfit  came  near  being  lost  by  attempting 
to  cross  the  Cimarron  on  the  ice,  brought  them  to 
their  journey's  end.  While  camped  on  the  banks  of 
the  Cimarron,  two  cowboys  undertook  to  have  fun 
with  the  "  tenderfoot, "  as  they  termed  Dyche,  and 
invited  him  to  take  a  deer-hunt  with  them.  Tak- 
ing him  to  a  bunch  of  jack-oaks  they  told  him  he 
would  be  sure  to  find  deer  in  there,  and  advised  him 
to  crawl  through  and  scare  out  the  animals,  while 
they  would  remain  on  the  outside  and  shoot  them  as 
they  ran  out.  Dyche  noticed  sundry  smiles  and 
winks,  and  fully  understood  the  part  he  was  to  play 
in  the  little  comedy.  Crawling  into  the  bushes  he 
made  his  way  carefully  along  one  of  the  little  trails. 


116  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

While  creeping  in  this  way  he  saw  a  doe  standing 
about  thirty  yards  away,  and  a  shot  dropped  her  in 
her  tracks.  A  buck,  which  had  been  lying  down, 
jumped  out,  and  a  second  shot  brought  him  down. 
Tying  his  handkerchief  to  a  bush  to  mark  the  spot, 
Dyche  hurried  out  to  where  the  cowboys  were  wait- 
ing. In  a  very  excited  manner  he  asked  if  they  had 
seen  the  deer.  None  had  passed  that  way,  and  when 
Dyche  told  them  that  he  had  seen  two  the  excitement 
spread,  and  the  cowboys  now  dashed  into  the  bushes ; 
but  when  they  reached  the  dead  deer  with  the  hand- 
kerchief flying  they  concluded  that  the  man  they  had 
sent  into  the  bushes  to  play  dog  was  no  tenderfoot. 

In  this  hunt  after  the  finest  game-bird  in  the  world, 
Dyche  not  only  secured  a  number  of  excellent  speci- 
mens, but  learned  much  about  the  habits  of  the  wild 
turkey.  He  was  aware  of  the  fact  that  they  be- 
gin to  lay  about  the  first  of  April,  and  laid  from  a 
dozen  to  fifteen  eggs,  but  there  was  much  about  their 
winter  life  which  he  did  not  know  and  which  this 
trip  taught  him.  The  birds  of  the  Territory  are 
slightly  different  from  those  of  New  Mexico,  with 
brighter  plumage  and  more  distinct  marking  in 
colours.  In  summer  the  food  of  the  birds  is  governed 
by  the  supply,  being  composed  of  insects,  principally 
grasshoppers,  and  buds  and  berries.  In  winter  the 
birds  exist  almost  entirely  on  dried  grapes,  buds,  and 
seeds,  and  especially  acorns. 

The  cowboys  said  they  had  regular  roosts,  and 
showed  Dyche  places  where  they  said  they  had  seen 
thousands  at  a  time  in  the  trees ;  but  the  pot-hunters 
are  after  them,  and  this  noble  game-bird  will  go  the 


EXTINCTION  OF  THE  WILD  TURKEY.         117 

way  of  the  buffalo  and  be  a  thing  of  the  past,  unless 
vigourous  means  of  protection  are  soon  taken.  The 
birds  were  formerly  seen  from  Maine  to  Florida  and 
from  the  Pacific  to  the  Atlantic  oceans,  being  more  or 
less  common  along  the  wooded  streams  of  the  United 
States.  Now  they  are  scarce,  and  will  soon  be  classed 
among  the  rarest  birds. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

In  the  Cascades — Extermination  of  Many  Species  of  Animals 
—  Something  about  the  Rocky  Mountain  Goat  —  An 
Arduous  Journey  —  The  Cascades  Reached  —  Wholesale 
Hunters — In  Camp — A  Failure. 

)T  is  a  fact  well  known  to  every  reader 
that  the  American  buffalo,  or  bison, 
is  now  practically  extinct  as  a  wild  spe- 
cies. A  few  years  more  and  this  will 
also  be  true  of  such  animals  as  the  elk,  moose,  Rocky 
Mountain  sheep  and  goats,  caribou,  musk  ox,  lion  or 
puma,  gray  wolf  and  bears,  while'  deer,  foxes-,  and  nu- 
merous other  smaller  animals  will  become  very  rare. 
The  moose  formerly  ranged  from  Maine  to  Idaho 
and  was  quite  common  in  all  suitable  parts  of  the 
northern  tier  of  States  and  Territories.  During  the 
past  few  years  only  a  few  stragglers  have  been  re- 
ported in  these  places.  It  is  but  a  few  years  since 
the  beaver  was  said  to  be  one  of  the  most  common 
wild  animals  in  the  State  of  New  York.  It  is  now 
questionable  whether  there  is  a  single  wild  beaver  in 
the  State.  Twenty  years  ago  beaver  were  common 
along  all  the  streams  of  Kansas.  Ten  years  ago  they 
were  often  found.  Now  they  are  rare,  and  in  less 
than  ten  years  there  will  not  be  a  wild  one,  except  by 
chance,  in  the  State.     Buffalo,  antelope,   deer,  elk, 

118 


On  guard. 


THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GOAT.  119 

bear,  gray  wolf,  and  the  wild  turkey  have  already 
disappeared. 

With  such  facts  as  these  before  him,  it  was  appar- 
ent to  Dyche  that  if  he  ever  expected  to  complete  his 
collection  of  birds  and  animals  it  was  high  time  to 
set  about  it.  Following  out  this  idea,  he  devoted  a 
year  to  the  study  of  taxidermy  and  to  visiting  the 
various  large  museums  of  the  East  as  well  as  zoologi- 
cal gardens  an4  shops  of  taxidermists.  Some  months 
were  spent  in  the  studio  and  workshop  of  W.  T. 
Hornaday  while  he  was  mounting  his  large  group  of 
bison,  and  in  the  study  and  measurement  of  live 
animals  in  the  various  zoological  gardens,  and  then 
he  felt  partially  prepared  for  the  labours  before  him. 

In  the  Century  magazine  of  December,  1884,  ap- 
peared an  article  on  the  Rocky  Mountain  goat,  from 
which  the  following  extracts  are  taken : 

"  Its  history  is  one  of  peculiar  interest.  So  far  as 
I  know,  specimens  of  the  Aplocerus  montanus  are 
to  be  found  only  in  three  cities :  In  London,  where 
an  under-sized  and  wretchedly  stuffed  specimen  does 
not  redound  to  the  honour  of  the  British  Museum  or 
of  English  taxidermists ;  a  better  one  in  the  Ley  den 
Museum ;  two  fair  representatives,  one  male  and  one 
female,  in  the  National  Museum  at  Washington. " 


"Of  the  twenty-three  scientific  authorities  who 
have,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  follow  the  subject, 
written  on  this  animal,  none  have  ever  seen  one 
alive,  and  only  four  have  ever  examined  a  stuffed 
specimen,   but    they,   nevertheless,   have    bestowed 


130  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

thirteen  different  generic  names  upon  it,  some  mak- 
ing it  a  sheep,  others  classing  it  as  a  goat,  while 
others  again  ranked  it  with  the  chamois." 

So  thoroughly  was  Dyche  impressed  with  the  ne- 
cessity of  prompt  action  in  the  matter  of  securing 
specimens  that  he  did  not  wait  for  the  board  of 
regents  of  the  university  to  consider  his  plan,  but  made 
immediate  arrangements  for  an  expedition  to  the  far 
Northwest  after  big  game.  British  Columbia  was 
selected  as  the  proper  ground,  and  after  a  month's 
preparation  he  was  ready  to  start.  This  preparation 
included  daily  target  practice  with  two  new  rifles :  a 
Winchester,  40-82  model  of  1886,  and  a  40-75  Reming- 
ton. Day  after  day  the  practice  was  continued,  until 
over  forty  pounds  of  lead  had  been  shot  at  every  con- 
ceivable form  of  target,  under  every  possible  circum- 
stance which  his  experience  had  taught  him  he 
might  expect  in  the  woods  of  the  Cascade  range. 
Rolling  and  stationary  targets  were  fired  at  from  a 
standstill  or  while  running ;  he  would  run  at  full  speed 
forty  or  fifty  yards  and  then  fire,  until  he  became 
familiar  with  his  guns  under  all  circumstances  and 
until  he  felt  that  he  had  full  control  over  his  nerves 
and  muscles  as  well  as  a  perfect  knowledge  of  just 
what  his  guns  would  do.  Tarpaulins,  for  covering 
packs  and  drying  skins,  heavy  pack-bags  and  smaller 
sacks  of  canvas  were  made,  every  possible  want  was 
cared  for,  and  on  the  morning  of  July  3d  he  left  Law- 
rence, reaching  Denver  on  the  4th. 

A  few  days  were  spent  here  waitifig  for  Judge 
Frederick  A.  Williams  and  Dr.  J.  W.  Anderson, 
who  were  to  accompany  him  with  a  local  taxidermist 


AN  ARDUOUS  JOURNEY.  121 

who  professed  to  be  able  to  guide  the  party  through 
the  Cascade  Mountains  or  anywhere  else.  During 
this  wait  in  Denver  Dyehe  continued  his  target 
practice,  and  on  the  eleventh  of  the  month  all  were 
ready  and  the  start  made  for  the  north. 

The  hot,  dry  weather  made  the  long  trip  through 
Colorado  and  Idaho  anything  but  pleasant.  At 
Montpelier  the  train  stopped  half  an  hour  for  break- 
fast, and  was  just  too  late  to  allow  the  passengers  to 
witness  a  bear-hunt  in  the  heart  of  the  town.  A 
large  female  grizzly,  with  a  cub,  had  come  to  town 
and  walked  leisurely  through  the  streets.  The  whole 
population  turned  out,  and  for  her  boldness  and  con- 
tempt the  bear  lost  her  life,  while  the  cub  was  made 
prisoner,  and  when  the  train  arrived  was  showing  its 
viciousness  and  strength  by  whipping  the  best  dog 
in  town. 

The  train  sped  on  over  the  sage-brush  country. 
Indians  were  to  be  seen  standing  at  the  stations 
watching  the  iron  horse  which  had  invaded  their  do- 
main. Finally  the  region  of  sage-brush  disappeared, 
and  as  Pendleton  was  approached  the  whole  country 
took  on  the  appearance  of  a  vast  wheat-field.  Trees, 
water,  houses,  and  barns  were  seen,  and  civilisation 
seemed  to  have  been  reached  once  more. 

Spokane  was  the  end  of  their  railroad  journey,  and 
here  tents  were  put  up,  bath-houses  and  barber-shops 
invaded,  and  a  day  of  rest  on  Sunday  made  the  travel- 
lers feel  once  more  civilised.  Monday  and  Tuesday 
were  spent  buying  eight  or  ten  horses.  After  with- 
standing the  wiles  of  the  dealers,  who  apparently 
made  their  living  by  cheating  "tenderfeet,"  a  good 


123  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

outfit  was  purchased  and  the  horses  and  wagons  were 
made  ready. 

Learning  at  Spokane  that  a  good  wagon  road  led 
to  Palmer  Lake,  it  was  determined  to  go  on  at  once, 
and  the  doctor  and  the  judge  went  ahead,  leaving 
Dyche  and  Mac,  the  guide,  about  a  day  behind.  The 
road  lay  through  a  country  where  there  was  but  little 
grass  and  water,  and  it  was  ten  o'clock  the  first  night 
when  Dyche  and  his  companion  reached  a  ranch. 
The  task  of  keeping  off  the  horde  of  vicious  dogs  and 
waking  the  ranchman  fell  to  Dyche,  who  accom- 
plished it  after  much  trouble.  A  little  wheat-straw 
was  obtained  for  the  horses,  and  next  morning,  when 
Dyche  went  to  the  house  to  apologise  for  the  trouble 
he  had  given  them,  he  was  invited  to  a  fine  break- 
fast. 

All  day  the  road  led  through  a  hot  and  dry  country. 
Dust  and  sand  from  five  to  ten  inches  deep  made  the 
way  almost  impassable.  When  the  wind  blew  it 
felt  as  if  it  came  from  the  mouth  of  a  furnace  and 
the  hot  dust  flew  in  clouds,  completely  enveloping  the 
wagon  and  pack-horses.  The  whole  country  was  as 
dry  as  a  desert,  covered  with  large  stones,  and  there 
was  little  or  no  vegetation  to  be  seen  anywhere. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  a  ranchman  sold  them  enough 
wheat-straw  to  make  a  partial  feed  at  three  cents  a 
pound,  but  he  would  let  them  have  no  water  at  any 
price.  His  well  was  nearly  dry,  and  he  gave  them 
a  little  to  drink,  but  the  horses  had  to  go  without. 
Camp  was  made,  but  at  three  o'clock  next  morning 
they  started  and  travelled  to  "Wilbur,  a  small  town, 
where,  at  six  o'clock,  they  got  sufficient  water  for  the 


AN  ARDUOUS  JOURNEY.  123 

horses  and  then  started  on,  overtaking  the  doctor  and 
the  judge  at  eight  o'clock. 

All  day  long  they  toiled  on  through  the  sand  and 
dust,  which  was  now  supplemented  by  clouds  of 
smoke  from  the  distant  burning  mountain.  Camp 
was  made  at  noon  and  an  attempt  made  to  rest  and 
eat,  but  it  was  a  dismal  failure.  A  little  water  found 
in  a  hole,  which  was  so  vile  that  the  horses  would 
not  drink  it,  was  boiled  and  coffee  made,  but  it  was 
not  fit  to  drink. 

At  half-past  three  in  the  afternoon  the  Grand  Cou- 
lee was  reached.  Here  the  road  dropped  down  almost 
perpendicularly  into  the  canon  and  rose  as  precipi- 
tously on  the  other  side.  In  the  distance  could  be 
seen  the  magnificent  range  of  the  Cascades,  along  the 
Columbia  River,  which  at  this  place  flows  through 
an  immense  gorge.  Here  the  party  suffered  the  tor- 
tures of  Tantalus,  for  while  they  could  see  and  hear 
the  water  as  the  stream  dashed  down  the  gorge  far 
below  them,  they  could  not  by  any  possibility  get 
down  to  it,  and  were  compelled  to  travel  three  miles 
farther  before  they  could  obtain  a  drink. 

After  a  short  rest  the  long  pull  up  the  mountains 
began.  The  saddle-horses  were  fastened  by  a  long 
rope  to  the  tongue  of  the  wagon,  and  thus  assisted  in 
getting  the  vehicle  up  the  trail.  The  road  narrowed 
and  wound  in  and  out  among  the  steep  hills,  along 
the  crags  and  cliffs  of  the  mountain-side.  While 
going  over  this  trail,  Mac's  bucking  "  cayuse"  took  it 
into  his  head  to  show  off,  and  the  result  was  that  he 
fell  and  got  tangled  up  in  the  ropes,  dragging  down 
Dyche's  horse.     The  latter  was  almost  caught  in  the 


124  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

fall,  but  extricated  himself.  Then  the  doctor's  horse 
got  down,  fastening  his  rider  by  winding  the  rope 
about  his  legs  so  that  escape  was  impossible.  The 
struggling  and  kicking  horses  were  on  the  edge  of  a 
precipice  which  would  give  them  a  sheer  fall  of  three 
hundred  feet  should  they  go  over,  and  the  situation 
was  precarious  in  the  extreme.  The  ropes  were 
quickly  cut  and  the  doctor  relieved  from  his  dan- 
gerous position,  and  then  the  horses  got  up  safely. 

But  these  were  not  all  the  troubles  of  the  trip  over 
the  pass.  A  few  miles  farther  on  a  freighter  stuck 
fast  in  the  mud  effectually  barred  the  way.  It  was 
utterly  impossible  to  get  past  the  big  wagon,  so  three 
hours  were  spent  in  assisting  the  freighter  and  clear- 
ing the  road.  Camp  was  made  that  night  by  a  small 
spring,  and  by  six  o'clock  next  morning  they  were 
again  on  the  road.  At  noon  they  reached  Condon's 
Ferry,  the  home  of  "  Wild-Goose  Bill,"  who  spent 
several  hours,  when  he  first  came  into  the  country, 
stalking  and  killing  his  neighbours'  tame  geese. 

The  early  morning  breeze  increased  to  a  hurricane 
and  the  dust  filled  the  air,  while  heavy  black  clouds 
of  smoke  and  ashes  covered  the  sky.  The  discomfort 
of  travelling  was  so  great  that  camp  was  made  early 
in  the  afternoon,  and  they  undertook  the  almost  im- 
possible task  of  getting  supper  amid  the  dust  and 
ashes.  Dyche  and  the  judge  started  a  fire  and 
cooked  a  supper  after  a  fashion,  but  everything  was 
so  mixed  with  ashes  that  eating  was  almost  impossi- 
ble. The  doctor  was  the  life  of  the  party,  and  his 
exuberance  kept  them  from  utter  demoralisation. 

The  potatoes  were  half  fried  and  full  of  dirt.     "  All 


AN  ARDUOUS  JOURNEY.  125 

the  better  for  that,"  was  the  doctor's  comment,  and 
he  ate  as  if  he  believed  it.  The  bread  was  burnt. 
"All  the  better  for  that,"  was  the  invariable  remark, 
and  at  last  the  expression  became  the  general  by- 
word whenever  anything  went  wrong  on  the  trip. 

The  clouds  passed  away  during  the  night  and  the 
winds  died  down  without  a  drop  of  rain.  The 
whole  country  appeared  to  have  had  no  rain  since  the 
flood.  It  had  rained  a  little,  however,  about  four 
months  before  this  date.  All  next  day  was  spent  in 
one  continuous  trip  over  roads  in  valleys  between 
the  mountains,  while  the  dust  came  in  clouds  and 
covered  everything.  With  goggles  over  the  eyes  and 
with  the  mouth  and  nose  covered  to  keep  the  fine 
particles  from  the  lungs  and  throat,  they  almost  suf- 
focated as  they  travelled,  until  late  in  the  afternoon, 
when  they  reached  a  small  lake,  where  Dyche  suc- 
ceeded in  shooting  six  half-grown  ducks.  While 
thus  engaged  an  Indian  stole  his  spurs  which  he  had 
left  on  his  saddle,  and  as  he  could  not  spare  the  time 
to  chase  the  thief,  his  horse  benefited  by  the  episode. 

Reaching  the  Okonagan  River  at  a  point  where  it 
is  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  wide,  they 
found  that  a  band  of  Indians  had  made  their  camp 
and  were  fishing  for  salmon,  which  were  running  in 
great  numbers.  The  red  men  erected  a  fish-dam  of 
willow  and  pole  in  such  a  manner  that  all  the  fish 
going  down  the  stream  were  caught  in  the  baskets. 
This  method  has  been  in  use  among  the  Indians 
from  time  immemorial  and  was  fully  described  by 
Lewis  and  Clarke  in  the  history  of  their  explorations 
in  1805. 


126  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

Between  two  and  three  hundred  Indians  were  in  the 
camp  and  they  secured  from  one  to  two  thousand 
pounds  of  fish  each  night.  These  were  cut  up  and 
placed  on  pole  platforms,  under  which  smudge  fires 
were  kept  going  constantly  by  the  women  and  chil- 
dren. The  combination  of  squaw,  papoose,  dog,  fish, 
and  general  Indian  camp  smell  was  something  better 
imagined  than  described,  and  little  time  was  wasted 
by  the  hunters  in  that  vicinitj^. 

Ward's  ranch  was  reached  late  that  night,  and  it 
was  nine  o'clock  before  the  ducks  were  dressed  and 
cooked.  They  had  a  strong  fishy  taste,  but  all  ad- 
verse comment  was  cut  off  by  the  doctor's  "  They 
are  all  the  better  for  that."  The  judge,  however, 
rose  to  the  occasion,  saying : 

"  Begorra,  I  like  fish,  and,  begorra,  I  like  ducks,  but, 
begorra,  I  do  not  like  fish-duck." 

Leaving  Ward's  ranch  at  half -past  seven  next 
morning,  another  hot  and  dusty  day  was  experienced. 
White  Mountain,  that  landmark  known  to  every 
man  who  has  travelled  in  the  Cascade  range,  towered  . 
on  the  right  of  the  trail  and  stood  out  against  the 
smoky  sky.  It  was  an  inspiring  sight  and  aided  in 
whiling  away  many  of  the  tedious  minutes  of  the 
day.  The  party  had  been  told  of  the  lake  called  Sweet- 
water, and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  joy  that  the  waters 
of  the  place  were  seen,  but  how  keen  was  the  disap- 
pointment when  it  was  found  that  some  facetious 
prospector  had  given  the  name  to  the  bitterest  sheet 
of  water  in  the  Northwest.  They  toiled  on  and  just 
at  dark  reached  Loomis  trading  post,  utterly  fagged 
out. 


THE  CASCADES  REACHED.  127 

This  post  was  composed  of  a  number  of  log-cabins 
on  the  banks  of  a  beautiful  ice-cold  stream  which 
dashed  down  from  the  snows  of  the  Cascade  range, 
to  which  the  early  French  voyageurs  had  given 
the  name  "  L'eau  de  coulee, "  or  "  water  of  the  chasm. " 
The  trappers  and  prospectors  who  followed  at  a  later 
day,  however,  corrupted  this  into  "Toad  Coulee," 
by  which  name  the  stream  is  now  known.  The  post 
was  patronised  to  the  extent  of  fifty  cents  for  a  fine 
supper,  prepared  by  a  good  cook,  and  the  horses  were 
regaled  with  alfalfa  hay  in  the  corral. 

During  the  moments  of  rest  in  their  long  and 
wearisome  day,  Mac  had  exercised  his  ingenuity 
in  getting  up  new  stories  about  the  beautiful 
fish  which  were  to  be  caught  in  Palmer  Lake.  Now 
that  the  body  of  water  was  so  near,  the  doctor  and 
the  judge  wanted  to  hurry  on  and  try  a  cast.  Within 
a  mile  of  the  lake  the  wagon  stuck  fast  in  the  mud, 
and  they  were  compelled  to  pack  the  camp  equipment 
to  the  shore.  Once  there,  the  two  fishermen  could 
not  even  wait  for  lunch,  but  soon  had  their  lines  out 
and  were  whipping  the  water  in  vain  effort  to  bring 
a  rise.  In  about  two  hours  they  succeeded  in  getting 
a  dozen  of  the  worst  specimens  of  fish  to  be  found  in 
the  whole  country.  They  were  little  things  called 
"  white  fish"  in  that  country — and  were  so  full  of 
bones  as  to  be  unfit  for  eating.  There  was  not  a 
trout  in  the  lake. 

Evening  was  now  coming  on,  and  the  horses,  which 
had  become  frenzied  from  the  attacks  of  the  flies  and 
mosquitoes,  were  taken  high  up  on  the  mountain, 
where  they  could  have  relief  during  the  night.     It 


128  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

was  useless  to  try  to  sleep,  for  the  winged  pests  made 
life  a  burden  the  whole  night  long.  At  earliest  day- 
light the  party  was  up,  and  scarcely  waiting  for 
breakfast,  they  struck  camp  and  went  back  to  Thorp's 
ranch,  where  arrangements  were  made  to  store  the 
bulk  of  the  outfit. 

After  an  excellent  dinner  served  by  Thorp's  squaw, 
they  started  once  more  for  the  hunting-grounds. 
The  trail  now  led  up  the  side  of  old  Mount  Chapaca, 
and  was  a  most  pleasant  change  from  what  had  been 
experienced  during  the  past  few  days.  The  air 
was  clear  and  cool,  and  there  was  none  of  the  dust 
and  heat  which  had  made  life  a  burden  during  their 
long  ride  over  the  barren  country.  Just  as  the  sun 
sank  behind  the  western  range  a  cosy  grassy  spot 
beside  flowing  water  was  seen,  and  as  the  horses 
were  halted  for  camp  it  was  discovered  that  the  place 
had  been  utilised  for  the  same  purpose  by  someone 
some  time  before.  On  a  large  pine  tree  was  found 
the  legend :  "  Camp  Disappointment.  Could  not  find 
the  hidden  mine." 

A  fawn  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  rifle  of  one  of 
the  party  as  they  came  up  the  mountain,  and  by  the 
side  of  the  cool  spring  the  camp  was  anything  but  a 
disappointment  to  the  naturalist  and  his  companions. 
Mac  had  been  telling  of  a  certain  beautiful  stream 
just  ahead  which  was  full  of  trout,  and  next  day  the 
place  was  reached  early  in  the  forenoon.  Mac's  fish- 
stories  were  generally  looked  upon  with  suspicion  by 
this  time,  but  the  doctor  and  the  judge  were  so  in- 
spired with  his  apparent  truthfulness  about  this  river 
that  they  did  not  wait  to  eat,  but  hurried  away  and 


WHOLESALE  HUNTERS.  129 

began  casting  their  flies  over  the  stream.  After 
whipping  tlie  water  for  an  hour  or  more  they  gave  it 
up  in  disgust  and  returned  empty-handed  to  camp. 
It  was  afterwards  learned  that  Mac  had  not  broken 
his  record,  for  there  was  not  a  trout  in  the  stream, 
and  furthermore  there  never  had  been,  for  a  series  of 
high  falls  some  distance  below  prevented  the  fish 
from  coming  up  stream. 

Several  deer  were  seen  during  the  afternoon,  and 
just  as  evening  was  coming  on  the  smoke  of  a  camp- 
fire  was  espied,  which  proved  to  come  from  the  camp 
of  two  deer-hunters.  The  two  men  who  sat  by  the 
fire  eyed  the  new-comers  with  suspicion,  and  in  re- 
sponse to  inquiries  said  they  were  prospectors ;  but 
the  piles  of  deer  and  sheep  skins  which  lay  about  the 
camp  made  it  evident  that  they  were  skin-hunters, 
and  were  in  the  mountains  ruthlessly  slaughtering 
the  game  for  the  paltry  sum  to  be  had  for  the  hide. 
It  was  afterwards  learned  that  these  two  men  killed 
over  two  hundred  deer  during  that  summer,  selling 
the  skins  for  seventy-five  cents  each  and  leaving  the 
dead  carcasses  lying  just  where  they  had  fallen.  The 
head-hunters,  against  whom  such  a  wave  of  indig- 
nation has  spread  over  the  country,  are  bad  enough, 
but  they  are  usually  satisfied  with  two  or  three  ani- 
mals, while  the  skin-hunters  indiscriminately  slaugh- 
ter the  animals  by  the  hundreds  and  soon  drive  them 
out  of  the  country. 

The  skin-hunters  were  full  of  advice  when  they 
learned  that  the  party  was  after  sheep. 

"  You  may  see  some  of  them  on  the  highest  peaks 
if  you  keep  your  eyes  skinned,"  said  the  man  with 


130  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

a  buckskin  suit,  "  but  you  can  depend  on  it,  Mister, 
that  one  old  ram  will  always  see  you.  He's  jest 
sure  to  see  you  if  you're  in  sight.  One  old  ram  is 
always  on  the  lookout  on  the  top  crag,  while  the 
others  of  the  band  are  feeding  below  on  the  slope." 

"  How  did  you  get  two  of  them  if  they  are  so  shy?" 

"  Oh,  we  came  upon  them  while  they  were  in  the 
woods  and  didn't  expect  us.  Then  we  fellers  have 
had  lots  9f  experience  hunting  wild  things,  and  can 
get  animals  you  fellers  can't." 

This  big  talk  did  not  have  the  effect  of  deterring 
the  party,  for  Dyche  believed  that  if  anyone  else 
could  get  a  sheep  he  could.  A  mile's  walk  took  the 
naturalist  and  his  companions  to  the  ideal  spot  for  a 
camp,  and  here  preparations  for  a  long  stay  were 
made.  A  mile  to  the  north  two  towering  peaks  raised 
their  heads  to  the  sky,  while  between  them  a  clear, 
ice-cold  stream  dashed  down  over  the  rocks  and 
bowlders,  making  constant  music  through  the 
grassy  valley.  On  the  west  side  of  the  stream  the 
valley  sloped  gently  back  to  the  higher  mountains, 
while  the  thick  grass  made  a  carpet  of  green.  Mid- 
way between  the  water  and  the  rising  ground  stood 
a  bunch  of  spruce  trees,  forming  a  background  for 
the  camp,  which  was  pitched  just  to  the  east  of  the 
trees.  The  horses  were  put  on  ropes,  the  tents  set 
and  carpeted  with  spruce  boughs,  the  fire  started  and 
supper  begun,  and  the  naturalist  and  his  friends  were 
at  home. 

The  judge  confessed  that  he  did  not  know  much 
about  cooking,  and  had  been  afraid  to  try  his  hand 
heretofore  lest  he  should  spoil  the  meal ;  but  he  had 


IN  CAMP.  131 

such  an  appetite  after  the  long  trip  that  he  could 
not  wait  and  began  preparing  to  cook.  He  got 
out  a  lot  of  flour,  and  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
he  received  enough  advice  to  sour  any  batch  of  bread, 
he  succeeded  in  making  such  biscuits  that  he  was  at 
once  appointed  baker  for  the  expedition. 

The  doctor  not  only  knew  how  good  coffee  tasted, 
but  knew  how  to  make  it ;  and  his  efforts  in  this  line 
supplementing  those  of  the  judge,  it  was  but  a  short 
time  before  the  party  sat  down  to  a  feast  so  fine  that 
all  else  but  the  luxury  of  dining  was  forgotten. 
Everyone  was  hungry,  and  the  table  was  soon 
cleared. 

As  they  were  in  a  sheep  country,  the  high  crags  and 
peaks  pointed  out  by  the  skin-hunters  were  eagerly 
scanned  in  the  hope  of  seeing  the  longed-for  game. 
Early  next  morning  the  first  hunt  was  taken,  but  it 
resulted  in  nothing  but  experience ;  and  that  evening 
Dyche  showed  such^igns  of  breaking  down  under  the 
unwonted  journey  and  horseback  travel  that  the  doc- 
tor insisted  that  he  should  remain  in  camp  for  at  least 
two  days.  Each  day  the  judge  and  the  doctor  would 
go  out  on  the  mountains  and  return  in  the  evening 
with  no  game,  but  with  such  stories  of  the  sheep 
which  they  had  seen  that  Dyche  fretted  at  his  en- 
forced idleness.  On  the  evening  of  the  second  day 
the  doctor  came  in  with  a  story  of  a  band  of  sheep 
which  he  had  seen,  and  at  dawn  next  morning  he  and 
Dyche  were*  off  to  the  spot.  By  sunrise  they  were 
on  the  top  of  a  magnificent  mountain,  and  saw  the 
orb  over  the  peaks  of  the  range. 

Separating  from  his  companion,  Dyche  wandered 


132  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

along  slowly,  watching  far  in  front  and  looking  for 
any  possible  movement  that  would  indicate  a  sheep. 
Each  rocky  crag  as  it  came  into  view  was  carefully 
scanned  with  the  expectation  of  seeing  a  ram  on  the 
alert.  In  a  grassy  cove  on  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain unmistakable  signs  of  sheep  were  seen.  He 
passed  on,  looking  carefully  in  every  direction,  keep- 
ing near  the  top  of  the  ridge.  Finally  he  retraced  his 
steps  to  the  cove  and  made  another  inspection.  It 
was  one  of  the  places  which  had  been  pointed  out  b}^ 
the  skin -hunters  as  "a  likely  place  for  a  few  old 
rams,"  and  the  hunter  was  loth  to  leave  it.  While 
moving  along  near  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  Dj^che  heard 
the  sound  of  a  stone  rolling  down  the  mountain  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  hill. 

The  sound  could  only  be  made  by  some  animal 
walking  among  the  loose  rocks,  and  in  an  instant  the 
hunter's  heart  was  leaping  madly  at  the  thought  of 
his  nearness  to  the  "big-horn."  The  wind  was  in 
his  favour,  and  as  the  sound  continued  he  felt  sure 
that  his  presence  had  not  been  noted  by  the  animal. 
Removing  his  shoes,  he  crawled  towards  the  top  of 
the  ridge  as  carefully  as  a  cat  crawls  upon  its  prey. 
The  movements  of  the  animals  became  plainer  with 
each  foot  that  he  advanced.  Just  as  he  reached  the 
crest,  he  stopped  for  breath  and  looked  to  see  that  his 
gun  was  all  right.  Again  the  animals  moved.  They 
now  seemed  to  be  only  a  few  feet  away.  Slowly  he 
crawled  a  few  feet  farther  and  rested.  Now  he  be- 
gan a  snake-like  movement  at  almost  snail's  pace 
towards  the  crest.  A  few  feet  more  and  yet  they 
were  not  in  sight.     Another  move  and  he  was  be- 


A  DISGUSTED  HUNTER.  133 

hind  a  jutting  rock  which  stood  on  the  top  of  the 
mountain.  The  animals  were  still  moving  about 
almost  within  reach  of  his  arm,  yet  he  could  not  see 
them,  although  they  were  heard  so  plainly.  He 
lifted  his  head  carefully,  just  enough  to  permit  him 
to  peer  through  a  crack  in  the  rocks,  and  there,  stand- 
ing in  the  sunshine  and  not  forty  feet  away,  almost 
under  him  he  saw,  broadside  towards  him,  two  big 
mule  deer  bucks.  The  revulsion  of  feeling  at  this 
moment  was  so  bitter  that  in  his  disappointment  he 
jumped  to  his  feet  and  began  throwing  rocks  at  the 
deer,  which  went  down  the  mountain  faster  than 
they  had  ever  travelled  before.  Dyche  was  so  sure 
of  finding  sheep  when  he  lifted  his  head  above  the 
rocks  that  his  keen  disappointment  unnerved  him, 
and  he  returned  to  camp  disgusted. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

The  First  Big-Horn — How  his  Skin  and  Bones  were  Prepared 
— Habits  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Sheep. 

YCHE'S  disappointment  did  not  prevent 
an  early  start  next  morning,  and  it  was 
still  early  when  he  reached  the  spot 
where  the  bucks  had  deceived  him. 
After  climbing  over  the  mountains  for  some  time  he 
reached  a  semicircular  ridge,  opening  to  the  south, 
through  the  centre  of  which  ran  an  intersecting  ridge, 
terminating  in  a  jutting  crag  of  bare  rocks.  The  top 
of  this  ridge  was  bare  and  rocky,  while  short  and 
thick  bunch-grass  grew  on  the  sides  of  the  slopes 
leading  down  to  the  central  amphitheatre,  towards 
the  woods.  From  the  dense  growth  of  timber  to  the 
south  of  this  horseshoe-shaped  inclosure  there  was 
a  gravelly  hill  leading  towards  the  central  ridge  which 
divided  the  amphitheatre  into  two  parks.  The  three 
jutting  spurs  at  the  ends  of  the  side  and  central  crags 
were  a  quarter  of  a  mile  apart,  while  from  the  central 
crag  to  the  back  of  the  ridge  it  was  fully  half  a  mile. 
Dyche  had  worked  his  way  up  the  mountain  and 
it  was  noon  when  he  reached  the  top  of  the  ridge. 
Crawling  carefully  to  the  top,  he  examined  the  coun- 
try thoroughly  before  showing  himself.  As  nothing 
living  was  visible,  he  crossed  the  ridge  and  sat  down 

134 


THE  FIRST  BIG-HORN.  135 

on  the  south  side,  overlooking  the  central  portion, 
and  began  eating  his  lunch.  While  thus  fully  ex- 
posed to  anything  coming  from  the  south,  he  saw  a 
big  ram  walking  from  the  woods  up  the  gravelly 
hill  to  the  crag  at  the  end  of  the  central  ridge. 
Dyche  knew  that  if  he  so  much  as  moved  his  hand 
or  foot  he  would  be  seen  by  the  keen-eyed  animal. 
He  thought  rapidly  now,  for  it  was  a  case  of  no  sheep 
if  he  moved  and  perhaps  no  sheep  if  he  did  not  move. 
The  ram  reached  the  crag,  and  after  gazing  at  the 
country  for  a  while  began  feeding  towards  the  spot 
where  the  naturalist  lay. 

Dyche  saw  that  his  only  possible  chance  would  be  to 
sit  perfectly  still  until  the  old  fellow  got  close  enough 
and  then  shoot  him.  The  ram  was  wild  and  had 
evidently  been  hunted  before.  He  would  not  take 
time  to  graze,  but  would  snatch  a  mouthful  of  grass 
and  then  raise  his  head  high  in  the  air  and  look 
about  while  he  chewed  it.  He  continued  slowly 
towards  Dyche,  but  the  naturalist's  clothing  was 
of  a  colour  that  was  indistinguishable  from  the 
rock  and  earth  on  which  he  lay,  and  he  was  not  seen. 
The  ram  fed  towards  him  some  fifty  yards,  and  just 
as  he  was  beginning  to  congratulate  himself  on 
the  success  of  his  plan  the  animal  suddenly  pawed 
the  earth  a  little  and  lay  down,  facing  towards  the 
naturalist.  There  he  contentedly  chewed  his  cud, 
while  Dyche  hardly  dared  to  breathe  for  fear  he 
might  be  seen. 

Minute  after  minute  passed  and  the  sun  slowly 
crawled  towards  the  western  horizon.  At  last  the 
sheep  got  up  and  shook  himself,  and  Dyche  felt  that 

10 


136  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

he  would  now  surely  come  on  along  the  ridge,  but 
in  this  he  was  again  disappointed,  for  the  sheep 
began  to  feed  again,  but  edged  around  the  base  of 
the  crag  towards  the  woods  from  which  he  had  come. 
The  naturalist  saw  that  if  he  was  to  secure  that 
sheep  he  must  do  something  very  soon,  or  it  would 
be  too  dark  to  see  to  shoot.  Timing  the  ram,  Dyche 
would  give  himself  a  shove  with  his  heels  every  time 
the  sheep's  head  went  down  after  a  mouthful  of 
grass.  Then  drawing  his  gun  up  he  would  wait  for 
another  mouthful  and  give  himself  another  shove. 
In  this  manner  he  covered  the  few  feet  between  him- 
self and  the  top  of  the  ridge  in  half  an  hour  and 
gradually  worked  himself  over.  As  soon  as  he  was 
confident  that  he  was  out  of  sight  of  the  animal,  he 
made  his  way  along  the  eastern  spur  of  the  ridge  to 
the  southern  end.  Making  his  way  carefully  to  the 
top,  he  peered  over  and  saw  that  the  ram  was  still 
there,  but  was  fully  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

Retracing  his  steps,  Dyche  made  his  way  clear 
around  to  the  south  end  of  the  western  ridge,  but  he 
was  still  as  far  from  his  game  as  ever,  and  he  could 
see  no  way  of  getting  closer  without  exposing  his 
body.  He  now  went  to  the  spot  where  he  had  first 
gone  over  the  ridge,  and  waited,  hoping  the  ram 
would  come  towards  him,  but  he  soon  saw  that  the 
animal  was  going  towards  the  timber.  The  sun  was 
now  almost  down,  and  the  naturalist  saw  that  what 
was  to  be  done  must  be  done  quickly,  and  concluded 
to  make  a  desperate  effort  to  get  that  sheep.  Divest- 
ing himself  of  his  shoes,  hat,  and  hatchet,  he  hurried 
back  along  the  western  ridge  to  the  southern  spur. 


THE  FIRST  BIG-HORN.  137 

When  the  ram  would  reach  down  for  a  mouthful  of 
grass  Dyche  would  crawl  along,  as  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible, down  the  side  of  the  ridge  into  the  little  park 
between  the  two  ridges.  He  took  advantage  of  every 
rock  and  hole  in  the  ground,  and  in  this  way  reached 
the  foot  of  the  central  ridge  in  about  fifteen  minutes, 
while  the  ram  was  feeding  just  over  the  crest  and 
out  of  sight. 

Now  came  a  series  of  movements  between  gliding 
and  crawling  towards  the  top.  Dyche  had  marked  the 
spot  where  the  ram  was  feeding  and  worked  his  way 
to  it,  getting  closer  and  closer  to  the  place  where  the 
ram  had  last  been  seen.  Just  as  he  was  working  to 
the  top  of  the  ridge  he  heard  a  scrambling  noise  on  the 
other  side.  Springing  to  his  feet,  with  his  gun  for- 
ward and  ready,  he  saw  the  ram  going  at  full  speed 
towards  the  timber.  A  hasty  shot  and  the  animal  was 
seen  to  falter,  but  quickly  gathering  itself  together 
it  went  on.  Another  quick  shot  and  the  ram  disap- 
peared around  the  edge  of  the  crag.  Dyche  ran  to 
the  end  of  the  ridge,  where  he  had  a  clear  view  of 
the  slope  leading  to  the  woods,  but  not  a  sign  of  the 
ram  was  to  be  seen.  A  search  along  the  edge  of  the 
ridge  showed  the  old  fellow  standing  about  seventy- 
five  yards  below,  apparently  hard  hit.  Dyche's  gun 
was  at  his  shoulder  almost  instinctively,  but  the 
shot  was  not  fired,  for  the  sheep  gave  a  lurch  for- 
wards and  went  tumbling  down  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain. Hurrying  after  him,  Dyche  found  a  magnifi- 
cent specimen  and  hastened  to  take  advantage  of  the 
fading  light  to  make  anatomical  notes  and  measure- 
ments.    He  found  that  the  eyes,  which  the  books 


138  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

describe  as  being  brown  or  dark  hazel,  were  of  a 
straw  colour  with  a  slight  mottling  of  hazel  near  the 


Darkness  put  a  stop  to  the  examination.  There 
was  neither  wood  nor  water  near  or  Dyche  would 
undoubtedly  have  camped  near  his  first  big-horn. 
An  hour  was  spent  in  finding  his  shoes  and  hat,  and 
eight  o'clock  was  past  when  the  naturalist  reached 
camp.  A  hot  supper  was  waiting  for  him,  and  while 
discussing  it  the  hunter  told  of  his  adventure. 

Everyone  was  up  bright  and  early  next  morning. 
The  doctor  went  south,  while  Dyche  saddled  Billy 
and  went  after  his  sheep.  Two  hours  were  spent  in 
measuring  and  skinning  the  animal,  and  by  one 
o'clock  the  skin,  skeleton,  and  most  of  the  meat  were 
in  camp. 

The  doctor  arrived  from  an  unsuccessful  hunt  in 
time  for  dinner.  The  sheep  steaks  proved  that  the 
flesh  of  the  big-horn  is  the  finest  game  meat  in  exist- 
ence. Dyche  lived  for  weeks  on  the  flesh  without 
having  it  pall  on  him,  which  shows  that  it  is  differ- 
ent from  any  other  venison.  The  meat  was  tender 
and  juicy,  having  only  a  slight  mutton  flavour,  while 
the  fat,  or  tallow,  would  not  harden,  but  formed  a 
granular  mass,  except  in  the  coldest  weather. 

The  afternoon  was  spent  in  preparing  the  skin 
for  preservation,  which  was  a  simple  operation.  All 
particles  of  flesh  and  fat  were  first  thoroughly  removed 
from  every  part  of  the  skin  to  the  hoofs,  and  then  a 
thin-bladed  knife  slipped  between  the  hoof  and  bone. 
The  ears  and  nose  were  cleaned  of  fascia  and  carti- 
lage.     Four  parts  of   salt  and  one  of   alum  were 


PREPARING  SKIN  AND  BONES.  13ft 

placed  in  water,  and  the  whole  was  boiled  until  a 
strong  brine  was  made,  which  was  allowed  to  cool. 
An  excavation  was  made  in  the  ground  eighteen 
inches  in  diameter  and  six  inches  deep,  and  into  this 
a  part  of  the  skin  free  from  bullet-holes  was  pushed, 
forming  a  cup,  into  which  was  poured  the  milk- 
warm  brine.  Then  the  whole  skin  was  thoroughly- 
wetted  with  a  small  sponge.  The  head  and  feet  were 
then  placed  in  the  vat  and  the  whole  skin  thoroughly- 
saturated  with  the  brine  and  left  to  soak  for  six  hours, 
when  the  operation  was  repeated.  When  this  soaking 
was  finished  the  skin  was  hung  in  a  shady  place  to 
dry,  care  being  taken  to  turn  the  edges  out  frequently. 
At  the  end  of  a  few  days  the  skin  was  dry  and  ready 
for  packing.  It  was  folded  and  sewed  in  a  burlap 
bag  marked  with  a  label  showing  a  number  which 
corresponded  with  the  number  of  the  description  in 
the  note-book.  Each  bone  was  also  marked  with  a 
similar  number  and  the  specimen  was  ready  for  the 
storeroom.  This  same  process  was  gone  through 
with  in  every  case  where  the  skin  was  preserved. 

Just  as  the  sun  was  going  down  a  big  animal  was 
heard  in  the  woods  tearing  along  at  full  speed,  making 
a  noise  like  a  herd  of  deer.  The  doctor  and  Dyche 
jumped  for  their  guns,  and  were  ready  for  anything, 
when  out  of  the  timber  came  the  judge  on  Nellie 
Gray,  at  full  speed,  waving  his  hat  and  shouting. 

"  Well,  by  the  long-horned  angora !"  said  the  doc- 
tor, "  I'll  bet  the  judge  has  killed  a  deer.  Yes,  there 
it  is  hanging  to  the  back  of  his  saddle." 

Nellie  Gray  seemed  to  share  the  excitement  of  the 
judge  as  they  came  tearing  into  the  camp. 


140  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  shouted  the  judge  as  he 
jumped  to  the  ground.  "  Just  look  at  that  specimen, 
will  you?  Whoopee!  A  hundred  dollars  would  not 
buy  that  sheep." 

As  he  spoke  he  began  unloading  the  head  and  skin 
of  a  fine  ram  from  his  saddle.  While  the  naturalist 
and  the  doctor  prepared  supper  the  judge  told  his 
story. 

"Do  you  see  that  mountain  off  there?  It's  more 
than  five  miles  over  there  and  the  trees  are  down 
dreadfully  between  here  and  that  old  bald- top.  I 
rode  all  the  way,  though,  and  Nellie  had  a  terrible 
time  getting  over  the  logs.  At  ten  o'clock  I  tied 
Nellie  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  and  climbed  to 
the  top.  I  went  along  that  snow-bank  which  you  can 
see  over  there,  and  as  I  slipped  along  I  saw  a  sheep. 
I  worked  around  a  crag  and  got  within  seventy-five 
yards  of  him.  There  was  a  whole  band  of  them  and 
they  did  not  see  me.  That  head  and  skin  tells  the 
rest  of  the  story." 

Williams  was  so  elated  over  the  fulfilment  of  his 
prophecy  of  the  night  before  that  he  at  once  proceeded 
to  perform  the  ceremony  of  christening  the  camp. 
In  honour  of  the  queen,  in  whose  dominions  the  party 
were  encamped,  it  was  called  Camp  Victoria. 

After  several  days'  unsuccessful  hunting  Dyche 
concluded  to  extend  his  range  and  went  to  a  bald 
ridge  about  six  miles  from  camp.  Ascending  the 
highest  peak  in  the  whole  country,  from  which  a 
vast  expanse  of  mountain  and  valley  could  be  seen, 
he  carefully  scanned  the  surroundings.  He  espied  a 
moving  object  about  a  mile  away  and  finally  made  it 


THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP.  141 

out  to  be  a  sheep.  It  was  walking  along  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  and  the  naturalist  dropped  to  the  ground 
and  made  a  long  stalk  to  the  place  where  he  thought  the 
animal  would  pass.  He  crawled  to  the  top  of  the  ridge 
and  waited  half  an  hour  before  he  saw  the  sheep, 
between  two  hundred  and  three  hundred  yards  to  his 
left  and  about  one  hundred  from  the  top  of  the  ridge. 
Near  this  sheep  could  be  seen  two  others,  lying  down. 
He  made  a  careful  stalk  to  the  ridge  just  above  them, 
but  could  not  see  them.  After  waiting  in  vain  for 
the  animals  to  move  along  the  mountain  he  rolled  a 
stone  down  in  order  to  start  them  out,  hoping  to  get 
a  flying  shot  at  them  as  they  ran.  Either  the  sheep 
were  accustomed  to  rolling  stones  or  their  hearing 
was  not  as  good  as  their  sight,  for  they  did  not  move. 
A  larger  stone  was  then  started  down,  and  this 
did  the  business  effectually,  for  it  started  others  and 
the  whole  mass  went  bounding  down,  over  the  ledge, 
right  among  the  sheep.  The  animals  went  at  full 
speed  along  the  side  of  the  mountain  to  escape 
from  the  rocks,  and  as  they  ran  Dyche  got  in  two 
shots.  He  now  ran  to  another  point  where  he  could 
see  the  sheep  rounding  a  crag.  There  were  only  two 
running  now,  and  they  got  out  of  sight  too  quickly 
to  give  him  another  chance.  Going  back  along  the 
side  of  the  mountain,  he  saw  a  beautiful  four-year- 
old  ram  just  as  it  was  sinking  to  the  earth.  By  the 
time  the  measurements  were  taken  and  the  animal 
skinned  it  was  after  sunset,  but  the  load  was  carried 
two  miles  to  the  horse.  Dyche  was  greatly  exhausted 
from  the  exertion  and  thirst,  but  was  compelled  to 
walk  another  mile  before  he  could  ride.     It  was  late 


142  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

at  night  when  camp  was  reached,  the  horse  taking 
his  own  way. 

The  doctor  and  the  judge  had  been  "hunting 
large,"  seeing  many  sheep,  but  the  latter  were  so  shy 
that  they  could  not  get  them.  They  each  succeeded 
in  securing  a  fine  specimen,  and  now  their  time  was 
up  and  they  had  to  return  to  Denver. 

Dyche  had  been  dreading  this  announcement  for 
some  time.  He  felt  that  he  could  ill  afford  to  lose 
his  friends,  for  two  better  camping  companions  could 
not  be  found.  Though  both  were  professional  men, 
with  large  business  to  look  after,  they  were  thor- 
oughly versed  in  woodcraft  and  were  real  campers 
and  hunters.  Having  a  lively  interest  in  everything 
going  on,  they  took  every  disappointment  the  weather 
or  country  might  bring,  without  complaint.  Even- 
ing in  camp  was  the  most  pleasant  part  of  the  twenty- 
four  hours,  for  it  was  spent  in  profitable  conversation, 
exchanging  ideas  and  constantly  developing  new 
thoughts. 

A  general  discussion  on  sheep  was  started  the  even- 
ing before  the  Denver  gentlemen  left  for  home,  when 
the  judge  asked  if  it  was  necessary  to  travel  away  up 
into  the  British-Columbian  mountains  to  get  sheep. 

"  No,"  said  Dyche.  "  Sheep  range  from  New  Mex- 
ico to  British  Columbia,  and  may  even  be  found  as 
far  north  as  Alaska.  They  are  seen  east  as  far  as 
the  Black  Hills  and  range  west  to  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
They  live,  however,  only  in  such  localities  in  the 
prescribed  territory  as  best  suit  their  habits.  At 
present  they  are  confined  to  a  few  favoured  localities 
in  the  highest  and  roughest  parts  of  the  Rockies. 


THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP.  143 

But  I  learn  that  the  skin  and  head  hunters  are  fast 
thinning  thera  out.  It  is  only  possible  now  to  find 
stragglers,  and  these  will  soon  be  gone." 

"  How  is  it  that  your  sheep  are  so  much  darker 
than  mine?"  asked  the  judge. 

"  The  colour  is  difiicult  of  description,  as  it  varies 
so  much  in  individual  specimens.  Some  are  very 
light  grayish-brown,  or  light  rufous  gray,  while 
others  are  very  dark.  All  the  intermediate  shades 
from  light  rufous  ash  to  dark  chestnut  are  to  be  seen 
in  one  band.  There  is  always  a  dingy  white  patch 
on  the  rump,  like  that  of  the  elk  or  antelope." 

"  Well,  there  is  one  thing  that  I  can't  quite  under- 
stand, and  that  is  why  we  don't  see  any  ewes  or 
lambs,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Here  we  have  been  hunt- 
ing for  several  days  and  have  seen  nothing  but  bands 
of  old  rams.  It  looks  as  if  all  the  females  had  left 
the  country  or  stayed  in  the  thick  woods." 

"  During  the  summer  and  autumn  the  rams  range 
together  on  certain  mountains,  while  the  ewes  and 
lambs  are  in  separate  bands  on  some  other  range, 
where  they  stay  until  late  in  the  fall.  You  will  find 
that  there  are  plenty  of  ewes  and  lambs  within  fifteen 
or  twenty  miles  of  these  mountains.  Not  over  half 
of  the  ewes  have  lambs  following  them.  I  have  tried 
to  find  the  reason  for  this,  but  have  not  been  able  to 
satisfactorily  account  for  it.  Among  the  theories  of 
the  old  hunters  the  most  tenable  is  that  the  lambs 
fall  victims  to  their  natural  enemies,  such  as  eagles, 
wolverines,  and  wolves." 

"Do  the  sheep  remain  constantly  above  timber- 
line?" 


144  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

"  They  seem  to  like  the  high  crags  and  mountain- 
tops,  and  when  undisturbed  remain  there  most  of  the 
time.  They  grow  very  fat  on  the  short,  thick  bunch- 
grass  that  grows  on  the  slopes  and  coves  on  the 
mountain-side.  The  high  ground  affords  them  the 
opportunity  to  watch  for  their  enemies.  When  dis- 
turbed they  always  break  down  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain for  the  woods,  but  usually  keep  going  until  they 
reach  another  range  of  high  mountains,  though  it 
may  be  miles  away. 

"  Ewes  and  lambs  do  not  range  on  the  high  moun- 
tains, at  least  while  the  lambs  are  small,  but  remain 
lower  down  near  the  edge  of  timber-line.  Certain 
alkali  spots  on  the  side  of  the  mountains  are  great 
places  of  resort  for  the  sheep,  and  they  go  there  as 
frequently  as  deer  do  to  a  salt-lick.  The  lambs  are 
born  in  the  latter  part  of  May  or  the  first  of  June." 

"  There  is  one  thing  that  always  seemed  a  myth  to 
me,"  said  the  judge,  "and  that  is  the  stories  we  hear 
about  the  fearful  leaps  rams  make  down  precipices, 
where  they  are  said  to  alight  on  their  horns  and  re- 
bound to  their  feet,  thus  saving  their  legs  from  the 
terrible  shock.  I  never  believed  there  was  any  truth 
in  such  stories." 

"  Well,  as  usual,  your  judgment  is  correct.  Those 
stories  are  all  myths  evolved  from  the  fertile  brains 
of  those  men  who  do  their  hunting  by  the  fireside  of 
some  ranch  in  the  mountains.  Take  a  man  who 
comes  to  a  place  like  Thorp's  ranch  and  shows  the 
people  that  he  is  a  *  tenderfoot'  and  is  going  to  write 
a  book,  and  they  will  fill  him  up  with  more  stories 
of  adventure  than  a  hunter  can  find  in  a  lifetime. 


THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP.  145 

If  you  will  watch  an  old  ram  going  down  a  moun- 
tain, you  will  see  that  he  does  not  jump  down  steep 
places,  but  is  as  careful  as  a  dog  about  where  he  puts 
his  feet.  He  will  feel  his  way  down  and  slip  and 
slide,  keeping  a  firm  foot-hold  all  the  time,  and  never 
jumps  any  more  than  any  other  animal  which  ranges 
the  mountains.  I  suppose  that  the  imagination  of 
some  book  hunter  made  the  fearful  leaps  out  of  the 
battered  condition  of  the  horns.  He  possibly  could 
not  understand  why  nature  wanted  to  put  such  horns 
on  an  animal,  and  not  knowing  that  the  horns  had 
been  battered  up  by  fighting,  he  imagined  that  it 
was  done  when  the  animal  jumped  and  struck  on  its 
head. 

"  The  horns  of  the  males  are  of  immense  size,  but 
the  ewes  and  lambs  have  small  ones.  Now,  the 
females  and  lambs  have  to  jump  and  go  where  the 
rams  do,  and  if  they  jumped  and  struck  on  their  horns 
they  would  have  a  sorry  time  of  it.  The  horns  of 
the  males  vary  from  twelve  to  eighteen  inches  at  the 
base,  and  a  cross-section  shows  that  they  are  all  tri- 
angular in  shape.  The  horns  and  skull  of  the  largest 
sheep  I  ever  saw  weighed,  when  thoroughly  dry, 
twenty-eight  pounds.  The  horns  of  the  largest  males 
average  from  thirty  to  forty  inches  in  length,  while 
those  of  the  ewes  are  rarely  over  twelve  inches 
long." 

Early  next  morning  the  judge  and  the  doctor 
started  over  the  trail  to  Thorp's  ranch,  leaving 
Dyche  practically  alone  in  the  mountains,  for  the 
guide  was  no  companion  and  took  little  interest  in  any- 
thing beyond  his  immediate  wants.     The  naturalist 


146  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

now  made  great  progress  in  his  work,  for  he  went  at 
everything  with  all  his  might  in  order  to  drive  all 
thought  of  lonesoraeness  from  his  mind.  He  collected 
many  small  mammals  and  birds  while  hunting  for 
the  larger  ones, 


CHAPTER  X. 

End  of  Sheep-Hunting — How  the  Sentinel  Fell  at  his  Post — 
A  Peculiar  Wound — Finding  the  Noon  Hour  by  Stars — 
How  the  Collection  of  Sheep  was  Completed. 

^^wHUS  far  all  the  hunting  had  been  done 
within  five  miles  of  the  camp,  but  now 
the  naturalist  determined  to  take  a  wider 
range.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  a 
mile  or  two  is  not  considered  a  great  distance,  but 
when  it  is  over  the  roughest  range  of  mountains  in 
the  world,  it  generally  means  a  day's  constant  strug- 
gle to  get  over  the  ground  without  devoting  any  time 
to  hunting. 

At  daylight  Dyche  was  on  old  Charlie's  back,  and 
ten  o'clock  found  him  eight  miles  north  of  Camp 
Victoria.  The  horse  was  lariated  out  where  he 
could  feed,  while  the  hunter  climbed  to  the  top  of  the 
highest  mountain  in  the  vicinity.  From  this  emi- 
nence the  whole  country  was  carefully  scanned,  with 
the  expectation  of  getting  a  glimpse  of  a  sheep.  At 
last  one  was  discovered  about  a  mile  away  on  the 
side  of  the  mountain.  The  colour  of  these  animals  so 
nearly  approaches  that  of  the  rocks  and  dirt  among 
which  they  feed  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  dis- 
tinguish them  unless  some  movement  reveals  their 
whereabouts.  Careful  scrutiny  of  the  place  where 
the  moving  object  was  seen  developed  the  fact  that 

147 


148  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

there  was  a  band  of  the  animals,  but  as  they  were 
on  a  barren  mountain-top,  four  hours  were  vainly 
spent  in  the  endeavour  to  get  close  to  them  without 
being  seen.  Finding  this  to  be  impossible,  Dyche  re- 
turned to  camp,  as  he  preferred  to  leave  them  for 
another  day  when  they  might  possibly  be  in  some 
more  accessible  place. 

At  nine  o'clock  next  morning  he  was  back  again, 
carefully  scrutinising  the  rocks  and  hills,  and  at  last 
made  out  what  he  thought  was  the  head  of  an  old 
ram  on  the  top  of  one  of  the  highest  crags  in  the 
vicinity. 

Slipping  carefully  along  the  edge  of  the  crag,  he 
got  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  sheep  unob- 
served, but  could  see  no  way  of  approaching  nearer 
without  attracting  the  sentinel's  attention.  Nothing 
was  visible  but  that  big  fellow  on  the  rock,  but  the 
naturalist  was  confident  that  the  whole  band  was 
somewhere  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood.  As- 
cending a  tree,  he  beheld  a  rare  sight.  In  a  sheltered 
cove  below  the  crag  on  which  stood  the  watcher  was 
a  band  of  seventeen  big  rams.  Their  fine  propor- 
tions, their  enormous  curving  horns,  and  their  appar- 
ent freedom  from  all  danger  set  the  blood  bounding 
through  the  veins  of  the  hunter  as  he  took  in  the 
situation  from  the  top  of  that  spruce  tree. 

For  a  full  half -hour  Dyche  watched  the  animals 
from  his  tree-top,  and  then  he  began  to  plan  a  way 
of  getting  at  them.  Every  foot  of  ground  for  five 
hundred  yards  in  every  direction  from  the  sen- 
tinel's post  was  as  bare  as  a  floor,  and  there  was 
little  encouragement  offered  the  naturalist.     The  old 


HOW  THE  SENTINEL  FELL.  149 

ram  stood  like  a  carved  statue,  his  only  movement 
being  the  turning  of  his  head  from  one  point  of  the 
compass  to  another.  For  several  minutes  he  would 
gaze  in  one  direction  intently,  and  then  jerk  his  head 
around  and  look  another  way,  but  he  was  so  far  from 
the  hunter  that  the  latter  was  unable  to  make  out 
when  he  was  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  natural- 
ist and  when  he  was  turned  the  other  way.  At  last 
Dyche  determined  to  chance  it  and  crawl  up  towards 
the  crag  when  he  thought  the  ram  was  looking  from 
him. 

The  wind  was  in  the  hunter's  favour,  and  had  it  not 
been  for  the  old  ram  on  the  rock  the  stalking  of  the 
band  would  have  been  a  very  simple  matter.  As  it 
was,  the  only  feasible  plan  appeared  to  be  to  crawl 
over  the  grassy  slope  from  the  edge  of  the  timber, 
keeping  to  the  right  of  the  cove  in  which  the  sheep 
were  feeding.  Hatchet  and  belt  were  left  at  the  foot 
of  the  tree,  and  the  campaign  began. 

Carefully  crawling  about  fifty  yards  into  the  open 
space,  the  head  of  the  sentinel  came  in  sight  outlined 
against  the  sky.  The  head  was  plainly  to  be  seen, 
but  the  question  to  be  solved  was  which  way  the 
animal  was  looking.  After  watching  the  horns  for 
some  time,  Dyche  decided  that  the  ram  was  looking 
away  from  him.  He  began  pushing  himself  along, 
watching  those  big  horns  all  the  while  and  stop- 
ping at  the  slightest  movement  of  the  sheep's  head. 
This  continued  until  noon,  and  the  hunter  was 
just  beginning  to  congratulate  himself  on  the  success 
of  his  plan,  when  all  his  calculations  were  upset  by 
the  appearance  of  a  second  pair  of  horns  on  the  crag. 


150  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

As  the  new-comer  seemed  to  be  looking  directly  at 
him  and  as  the  sheep  appeared  to  be  moving  around 
as  if  about  to  leave,  Dyche  feared  that  he  had  been  dis- 
covered and  that  the  band  was  preparing  to  make  a 
break  for  some  other  mountain.  The  second  sheep, 
however,  lay  down  on  the  top  of  the  rock,  and  the  first 
sentinel  went  below  to  feed  with  the  rest  of  the  band. 
The  naturalist  pushed  on,  depending  now  on  the  move- 
ments of  the  head  of  the  reclining  sheep.  Between 
one  and  two  o'clock  two  more  sheep  made  their  ap- 
pearance on  the  crag,  and  all  three  moved  about,  but 
finally  two  of  them  went  below,  leaving  one  watcher 
on  the  top. 

Worming  his  way  along,  he  reached  a  small  water- 
worn  gutter  on  the  side  of  the  slope.  Crawling  down 
this  until  it  joined  a  larger  one,  he  made  good  head- 
way up  the  slope  until  he  reached  the  head  of  the 
gutter.  Fifty  feet  to  his  left  was  a  string  of  low 
bushes,  and  by  edging,  inch  by  inch,  across  the  in- 
tervening space,  he  soon  had  these  for  cover.  Fifty 
yards  more  would  take  him  to  the  edge  of  the  cove 
where  the  band  was  feeding  in  fancied  security.  An 
old  scrubby  evergreen  bush  and  a  few  irregularities 
in  the  ground  afforded  partial  cover,  and  as  Dyche 
was  weary  of  his  hours  of  crawling,  he  made  for  the 
bush  with  the  hope  of  getting  a  little  rest.  By  inches 
he  worked  his  way,  and  after  five  hours'  crawling  he 
was  at  the  edge  of  the  cove,  sheltered  by  a  small 
scrubby  tree. 

Covering  the  crown  of  his  cap  with  twigs  from  the 
tree,  he  slowly  lifted  his  head  and  peered  into  the 
cove.     In  that  single  glimpse  he  felt  repaid  for  all 


HOW  THE  SENTINEL  FELL.  151 

the  toil  which  he  had  undergone.  Not  over  seventy- 
five  yards  away  was  a  band  of  sixteen  as  fine  rams  as 
man  ever  set  eyes  on.  He  could  hardly  believe  that 
he  was  awake,  for  there,  in  plain  sight,  were  the 
sheep,  some  lying  down  chewing  their  cuds,  others 
feeding,  while  still  others  were  walking  aimlessly 
about  the  cove.  Now  the  naturalist  began  examining 
each  individual  member  of  the  band  for  the  purpose 
of  selecting  the  best  specimen. 

There  stood  a  monster,  but  his  colour  was  a  little  too 
light.  Ah,  there  is  a  grand  fellow !  He  is  the  one. 
But  no,  his  horns  are  blunted  at  the  points.  There 
is  the  right  one.  What  magnificent  horns !  What 
a  beautiful  chestnut  colour !  He  is  the  one  to  adorn 
the  naturalist's  exhibit  at  the  World's  Fair.  The  gun 
is  carefully  trained  on  the  animal  and  almost  fired, 
when  a  glance  is  given  to  the  one  on  the  top  of  the 
crag.  He  is  evidently  the  patriarch  of  the  band. 
What  a  beauty !  Perfect  in  size,  shape,  and  colour, 
with  immense  horns.  But  he  is  fully  two  hundred 
yards  away.  Shall  the  chances  betaken?  The  ques- 
tion was  soon  solved,  for  Dyche  made  up  his  mind  to 
have  that  leader  if  he  never  shot  another  sheep.  The 
band  was  close  enough  to  give  him  a  second  shot 
before  it  got  out  of  range,  and  he  trained  the  Reming- 
ton on  the  sentinel.  The  old  guard  stood  broadside 
to  the  hunter  and  presented  a  fine  target.  A  puff  of 
smoke,  a  loud  report,  and  then  there  was  the  sound  of  a 
mighty  rushing  and  scrambling  of  hoofs  in  the  cove. 
Hurriedly  slipping  a  fresh  cartridge  into  the  gun,  the 
naturalist  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  cove,  but  just  got  a 
glimpse  of  the  band  disappearing  over  the  slope  to- 
ll 


152  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

wards  the  woods.  He  was  too  late  for  another  shot, 
as  the  last  of  the  band  went  into  the  timber  as  the 
gun  was  raised. 

Turning  his  attention  to  the  old  ram  at  which  he 
had  fired,  Dyche  hastened,  as  rapidly  as  the  lay  of  the 
ground  would  permit,  to  the  top  of  the  crag.  He 
was  sure  that  he  had  not  missed,  but  when  he 
reached  the  spot  not  a  sign  of  the  ram  was  to  be 
seen.  Not  a  drop  of  blood,  not  a  hair  was  found 
which  would  indicate  that  a  wounded  sheep  had  ever 
stood  on  that  rock.  The  hunter's  disappointment 
was  almost  too  great  to  be  borne.  He  had  left  a  sure 
shot  in  a  vain  attempt  to  accomplish  too  much,  and 
had  lost  the  best  opportunity  he  had  ever  had  to  se- 
cure a  fine  specimen. 

Making  a  circuit  of  the  crag,  he  saw  where  the 
ram  had  bounded  away  towards  the  woods.  The 
tracks  were  plain,  but  not  a  drop  of  blood  was  to  be 
seen  anywhere  along  the  trail.  With  a  feeling  of 
disappointment  that  almost  amounted  to  despair, 
Dyche  followed  the  trail  mechanically.  But  he  knew 
there  was  no  possible  hope  of  overtaking  that  band. 
Slowly  he  followed  the  tracks  down  the  slope  until 
he  found  where  they  joined  those  of  the  main  band, 
and  then  he  could  see  the  broad  trail  where  the  flee- 
ing sheep  had  ploughed  up  the  ground  in  their  mad 
leaps  down  the  declivity.  Two  days'  hunting  and  six 
hours  of  most  wearisome  crawling  had  been  wasted, 
all  because  he  was  not  satisfied  with  what  was  in  his 
grasp,  but  must  reach  out  for  the  unattainable. 

With  anything  but  pleasant  thoughts  the  natural- 
ist followed  the  trail  of  the  fleeing  animals  through 


A  PECULIAR  WOUND.  153 

the  park.  Clear  across  the  park  he  could  see  the 
fresh  dirt  which  had  been  thrown  up  in  the  flight, 
but  no  sheep  was  in  sight.  He  stood  looking  at  the 
distant  mountain-tops  for  a  few  minutes,  debating 
whether  it  would  be  wise  to  follow  the  band,  and 
then  decided  to  return  to  camp  and  lament  his  folly. 
Just  as  he  turned  in  the  direction  where  old  Charlie 
had  been  left  feeding,  a  moving  object  in  the  edge  of 
the  timber  caused  him  to  throw  up  his  gun.  As  he 
did  so  an  old  ram  walked  slowly  out  into  the  opening 
and  stopped  in  plain  view  with  its  head  down  and 
then  sank  slowly  to  the  ground.  Dyche  walked  to 
within  fifty  yards  of  the  animal,  but  it  never  moved, 
and  approaching  nearer,  the  naturalist  saw  that  the 
ram  at  which  he  had  fired  was  dead  at  his  feet.  The 
ball  had  entered  too  high  to  hit  the  heart  and  too  low 
to  break  the  back,  and  the  wound  was  of  such  a  nature 
that  all  the  blood  ran  into  the  cavity  of  the  body, 
which  accounted  for  the  absence  of  blood  on  the 
rocks. 

The  revulsion  of  feelings  from  his  deep  disappoint- 
ment was  so  great  that  the  hunter  felt  literally  re- 
freshed, and  proceeded  to  measure  and  skin  his  prize, 
after  which  he  carried  the  load  to  old  Charlie  and 
made  his  way  to  camp.  He  longed  for  his  com- 
panions now,  to  share  with  him  the  joy  of  the  prize, 
but  he  was  too  tired  to  waste  time  in  regretting  their 
absence,  and  was  soon  sound  asleep  after  his  hard 
day's  work. 

Dyche  now  had  plenty  of  rams,  but  he  needed 
ewes  and  lambs  to  complete  his  collection.  Several 
days  were  spent  in  fruitless  stalks  after  bands  of 


154  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

sheep,  and  then  it  was  decided  to  go  farther  north  to 
another  range,  where  possibly  the  ewes  and  lambs 
could  be  found.  The  specimens  were  cached,  and 
the  hunters  started  through  deep  canons  and  over 
rocky  crags,  going  two  days  in  this  way  until  they 
reached  the  wildest  country  they  had  yet  seen.  Dur- 
ing the  day  Dyche's  watch  stopped,  and  in  order  to 
get  the  time  two  strings  were  hung  in  line  with  the 
north  star.  At  noon  next  day,  when  the  sun  threw 
the  shadow  of  one  string  on  the  other,  the  time-piece 
was  set  at  twelve,  and  in  honor  of  the  event  the  place 
was  named  Camp  North  Star. 

A  band  of  sheep  was  seen  that  evening  on  the  top 
of  a  high  mountain,  and  next  day  Dyche  saw  a  band 
of  fourteen  and  made  a  long  and  tedious  stalk  to  get 
near  them.  The  animals  were  feeding  in  a  patch  of 
timber,  and  the  hunter  could  get  no  closer  than  within 
two  hundred  yards  of  the  band.  The  sheep  were  in 
a  patch  of  timber  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  and 
the  naturalist  sat  patiently  waiting  for  them  to  feed 
towards  him.  They  appeared  to  be  travelling  slowly 
his  way,  but  he  could  only  get  occasional  glimpses  of 
them  through  the  woods. 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  rushing  sound,  and  looking 
from  his  hiding-place  he  saw  a  small  band  of  sheep 
flying  up  the  mountain,  while  the  others  were  mak- 
ing as  good  headway  in  another  direction.  The  wind 
had  changed,  and  they  had  got  scent  of  the  hunter 
and  were  thoroughly  frightened.  Well  knowing  the 
futility  of  a  pursuit,  Dyche  made  his  way  back  to 
camp,  killing  a  white- backed  woodchuck  and  a  grouse 
as  he  went. 


THE  COLLECTION  COMPLETED.  165 

A  cold  wind  was  blowing  from  the  northwest 
and  snow-flakes  were  filling  the  air  next  morning, 
but  Dyche  was  determined  to  secure  a  lamb  and  ewe 
if  possible.  Saddling  old  Charlie,  he  rode  five  miles 
west.  About  noon  he  saw  two  old  ewes  and  a  year- 
ling. Jumping  from  the  horse,  he  stalked  the  little 
band  which  was  working  his  way.  They  fed  on 
towards  him  until  they  were  within  sixty  yards  of 
his  hiding-place.  Concluding  that  he  could  kill  the 
yearling  with  a  load  of  shot  from  the  shot-gun  and 
follow  it  up  by  killing  a  ewe  with  the  rifle,  the  natu- 
ralist opened  fire  and  saw  the  yearling  running  at 
full  speed  towards  the  timber  as  if  nothing  had  hit  it. 
Snatching  up  the  rifle  he  sent  a  ball  after  it,  dropping 
it  at  the  edge  of  the  timber.  The  ewes,  of  course, 
were  out  of  sight,  and  this  incident  caused  Dyche  ever 
after  to  discard  the  shot-gun  when  hunting  big  game. 

As  supplies  were  running  short  the  specimens  were 
taken  to  Thorp's  ranch,  and  the  hunter  outfitted  for 
another  hunt  after  ewes  and  lambs.  The  trip  to  the 
ranch  and  back  to  Camp  North  Star  was  made  with- 
out incident,  and  on  the  morning  after  the  return 
Dyche  took  an  early  start,  and  by  sunrise  was  on  the 
flat  top  of  a  mountain  where  he  had  seen  so  many 
indications  of  game. 

About  ten  o'clock  a  spot  was  reached  where  the 
numerous  signs  showed  that  a  large  band  of  sheep 
had  been  feeding  recently.  On  the  south  side  of  the 
mountain  the  wind  and  rain  of  summer  and  the 
frosts  of  winter  for  centuries  had  been  breaking  off 
masses  of  rock,  which  had  accumulated  in  a  sheltered 
nook.     The  sheep  had  pawed  out  this  soft,  crumbling 


156  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

rock  and  made  beds,  which  were  lined  with  gravel 
and  smooth  stones  and  were  dry,  showing  that  they 
had  been  occupied  very  recently.  There  were  over 
seventy  of  these  beds,  and  Dyche  began  to  work  very 
carefully,  for  he  was  confident  that  he  was  near  a 
large  band.  About  half  a  mile  from  the  beds  he 
reached  the  edge  of  the  flat  top  of  the  mountain,  and 
crawling  to  the  edge  he  peered  over.  A  great,  un- 
dulating slope  stretched  from  the  mountain-top  to  the 
woods  on  the  other  side,  and  this  was  scanned  closely, 
until  at  last  the  naturalist  made  out  moving  objects 
below.  They  were  sheep,  and  over  thirty  were  in 
sight  at  one  time.  The  wind  was  in  the  hunter's  fa- 
vour, but  the  country  was  bad  for  stalking,  as  the 
animals  were  feeding  over  a  large  open  space  and 
were  scattered  in  small  bands. 

Making  a  long  circuit,  Dyche  went  down  a  canon 
and  approached  the  game  from  another  direction. 
From  his  new  position  he  could  count  fifty-seven 
sheep,  but  the  nearest  was  three  hundred  yards 
away,  and  the  naturalist  could  see  no  way  of  getting 
nearer  without  being  seen.  He  took  another  two- 
mile  circuit  and  again  approached  the  timber.  From 
its  edge  he  crawled  up  a  small  ravine,  fearing  each 
minute  that  some  of  the  animals  would  take  alarm  and 
scatter  the  band.  The  head  of  the  ravine  was  finally 
reached,  and  lifting  his  head  carefully  he  saw  five 
sheep  within  a  hundred  yards.  Two  old  ewes  and 
three  small  bucks,  probably  yearlings,  were  feeding 
within  easy  range,  but  Dyche  wanted  a  lamb,  and 
hesitated  whether  to  shoot  at  the  sheep  in  sight  or 
wait  for  a  better  opportunity. 


THE  COLLECTION  COMPLETED.  157 

Deciding  to  try  again  he  began  a  retrograde  move- 
ment, although  he  ran  the  risk  of  frightening 
away  the  whole  band.  He  felt,  however,  that  if  he 
missed  a  lamb  this  time  he  would  have  great  diffi- 
culty in  getting  so  close  to  one  again.  Crawling 
slowly  up  another  ravine,  he  got  sight  of  an  old  ewe 
and  a  lamb.  They  were  just  what  he  wanted,  but 
they  were  over  two  hundred  yards  off  and  there  was 
no  possible  way  of  getting  closer.  He  determined  to 
let  them  go,  and  crawled  back  to  the  woods  and  went 
up  another  ravine.  He  had  crawled  about  two 
hundred  yards  when  two  sheep  fed  along  the  head  of 
the  ravine.  The  naturalist  flattened  himself  to  the 
ground,  fearful  that  he  had  been  seen.  The  animals 
fed  in  almost  the  same  place  for  fully  an  hour, 
and  the  hunter  was  just  beginning  to  feel  that  he 
would  have  to  move  even  at  the  risk  of  scaring  away 
the  whole  band,  when  they  went  around  a  knoll. 

Crawling  to  the  head  of  the  ravine  Dyche  carefully 
lifted  his  head,  but  there  was  nothing  in  sight. 
Waiting  a  few  minutes  he  crawled  out  on  the  grassy 
slope,  hiding  himself  as  much  as  possible,  flattening 
himself  to  the  ground.  His  movement  was  evidently 
seen  by  some  watchful  sheep,  for  he  suddenly  heard 
a  tremendous  rushing  of  the  frightened  animals,  and 
jumping  to  his  feet  saw  sheep  everywhere  going  at 
full  speed.  The  Winchester  was  trained  at  the  flying 
animals,  and  an  old  ewe  received  the  first  shot. 
Without  waiting  to  see  the  effect  of  the  shot,  another 
ball  was  sent  after  a  lamb  that  was  just  going  over 
a  knoll.  The  ewe  made  a  few  jumps  and  dropped, 
and  fifty  yards  over  the  knoll  the  lamb  lay  dead. 


158  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

The  bullet  had  struck  him  in  the  hip  and  ranged  for- 
wards to  the  neck,  not  coming  out. 

All  this  stalking  had  occupied  much  time,  and  it 
was  now  between  three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon and  camp  was  a  long  way  off.  An  hour  was 
spent  taking  notes  and  measurements  and  skinning 
the  animals,  and  then  Dyche  started  for  camp,  carry- 
ing the  load  of  skins,  skulls,  and  a  portion  of  the  lamb. 
The  way  was  long  and  rough,  and  finally  he  was  com- 
pelled to  cache  the  greater  portion  of  his  load  and 
proceed  with  his  quarter  of  lamb. 

Next  morning  it  was  snowing  heavily,  and  the 
northwest  wind  cut  to  the  bone.  Dyche  waited 
for  a  cessation  of  the  storm,  but  finding  that 
there  were  no  indications  of  a  lull  he  saddled  Slim 
Jim,  the  meanest  and  fattest  horse  in  camp,  and 
started  after  his  specimens.  The  snow  had  changed 
the  appearance  of  the  country  so  much  that  he 
could  hardly  make  out  the  landmarks  which  he 
had  noticed  the  day  before,  but  just  as  he  was 
about  to  give  up  the  search  he  saw  a  moving  object 
among  the  trees.  Suddenly  an  old  ram  came  into 
view  at  the  edge  of  the  timber.  Jumping  from  his 
horse,  Dyche  began  to  unfasten  his  gun  and  the  ram 
started  for  the  timber,  climbing  up  the  rocky  ledge. 
By  the  time  the  gun  was  out  of  its  fastenings  the  ram 
was  at  the  top  of  the  ledge,  but  here  he  made  a  mis- 
take. He  stopped  to  look  back.  Just  at  that  moment 
Dyche  dropped  on  one  knee  and  sent  a  bullet  after 
him.  As  the  gun  cracked  the  sheep  jumped  away, 
and  Slim  Jim  did  likewise.  Dyche  spent  fifteen  min- 
utes catching  the  horse,  and  then  went  to  look  for 


THE  COLLECTION  COMPLETED.  159 

the  sheep,  which  he  found  just  over  the  ledge,  stone 
dead. 

Very  little  time  was  spent  in  the  measurements 
and  skinning,  and  Dyche  started  to  camp  with  the 
load,  intending  to  leave  the  ewe  and  lamb  for  next 
day ;  he  knew  that  nothing  would  touch  them,  for 
two  handkerchiefs  floated  over  them  as  danger-sig- 
nals. While  wandering  around  trying  to  find  the 
way  to  camp  he  reached  the  spot  where  he  had  killed 
the  ewe  and  lamb,  and  thus  getting  his  bearings  poon 
found  where  he  had  cached  the  skeletons  and  skins. 
Placing  these  on  Jim's  back,  the  whole  load  was 
taken  to  camp. 

The  naturalist  now  had  a  complete  collection  of 
sheep  of  all  ages  and  kinds  which  made  up  a  complete 
family,  and  he  concluded  that  he  had  had  enough 
sheep-hunting.  In  addition  to  the  sheep,  he  had 
many  smaller  specimens  and  several  fine  mule 
buck  skins  and  skeletons.  Several  days  were  spent 
in  getting  out  of  the  country.  Horns  and  skeletons 
are  not  easily  carried  on  horses,  for  the  rough  and 
rocky  trails  are  liable  to  cause  accidents  which  will 
break  the  fragile  bones.  It  was  after  dark  when 
camp  was  made  the  first  night,  and  it  took  until 
nine  o'clock  next  morning  to  get  the  packs  arranged 
again.  Everything  was  piled  up  in  such  a  way  that 
the  place  was  named  Camp  Confusion. 

About  noon  the  trail  led  through  a  patch  of  blue- 
berries, and  here  the  horses  were  unpacked  and  the 
hunters  regaled  themselves  on  the  berries.  These 
were  of  two  kinds :  a  large  variety  with  a  whitish 
bloom  on  the  berry  and  a  small  black   one.     The 


160  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

large  ones  were  full  of  meat,  while  the  small  ones 
were  very  juicy,  and  a  judicious  combination  made 
a  very  palatable  dish. 

Dyche  and  his  companion  had  now  been  living  on 
a  meat  diet  for  ten  days,  and  they  were  beginning  to 
feel  the  effects  of  it.  As  they  were  within  a  day's 
journey  of  Thorp's  ranch,  a  pint  of  navy  beans,  which 
had  been  held  in  reserve  in  case  of  sickness,  was 
brought  out  and  made  into  soup.  So  well  did  the  sup- 
per please  the  naturalist  that  the  camp  was  at  once 
christened  Camp  Bean  Soup  in  honour  of  the  occasion. 
Breakfast  was  made  from  the  rest  of  the  soup  next 
morning,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  they  reached 
Thorp's  ranch,  tired  and  hungry. 

Thorp's  garden,  full  of  ripe  vegetables,  had  a  charm 
for  the  hungry  hunters,  and  Dyche  regaled  himself 
with  tomatoes  from  the  vines.  Letters  from  home 
were  waiting  for  him  by  the  dozen.  The  regular  rate 
of  postage  was  twenty-five  cents,  but  Loomis,  the 
postmaster,  bunched  the  lot  at  ten  cents  each. 

Several  days  were  spent  in  packing  and  storing 
specimens,  but  Dyche  was  not  yet  ready  to  leave  the 
country.  He  knew  that  Rocky  Mountain  goats  and 
caribou  were  to  be  found  somewhere  in  this  vicinity, 
and  he  meant  to  have  some  of  them  if  possible.  Many 
were  the  stories  told  him  about  the  mysterious  Kettle 
River  country.  There  were  hundreds  of  miles  of 
unbroken  forests  where  foot  of  white  man  had  never 
trod,  where  game  in  vast  numbers  was  so  tame  that 
deer  would  not  run  when  man  approached,  and 
where  wolves  roamed  in  ferocious  bands.  While 
Dyche  was  a  little  sceptical  about  these  stories,  he 


THE  COLLECTION  COMPLETED.  161 

thought  there  must  be  something  in  them.  Caribou 
and  goats  were  the  specimens  that  he  now  wanted. 
Indians  told  of  great  droves  of  caribou  which  wan- 
dered hundreds  of  miles  up  in  the  woods  at  the  head- 
waters of  Kettle  River,  and  the  naturalist  felt  that 
he  could  go  where  an  Indian  could,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  make  the  journey. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

On  Kettle  River — Okonagan  Smith  and  his  Lonely  Ranch — The 
Great  Northern  Boundary — Trials  and  Tribulations — "  Fool 
Hens  " — Through  Fallen  Trees — An  Arduous  Journey. 

|NE  hundred  miles  up  the  river  was  a 
cabin  built  by  three  noted  trappers  and 
mountaineers — Farrell,  McLaughlin,  and 
Dore.  Beyond  this  cabin  was  an  unex- 
plored wilderness  where  no  white  man  was  ever  known 
to  have  been  and  where  few  Indians  had  ever  wan- 
dered. An  unbroken  forest  stretched  away  hundreds 
of  miles  to  the  far  north  to  the  foot  of  the  white- 
topped  mountains,  on  whose  slopes  vast  herds  of  deer 
and  caribou  were  supposed  to  roam,  and  where  bears, 
wolves,  and  mountain  lions  were  thought  to  be  in 
countless  numbers.  The  white  crags  and  peaks  of 
the  mountains  were  supposed  to  be  the  home  of  goats 
and  sheep.  AU  this  was  surmise,  however,  for  man 
had  never  been  there  to  report.  Caribou  had  come 
down  as  far  as  the  trappers'  cabin  during  the  coldest 
weather  of  the  winter  before,  and  five  had  been  killed 
and  many  seen  near  the  camp.  Immense  droves  of 
gray  wolves  had  ranged  about  the  cabin,  while 
wolverines  and  bears  had  left  many  tracks. 

All  these  stories  indicated  that  the  trip  would  be 
interesting,  to  say  the  least ;  but  Dyche  had  heard  too 

162 


SMITH'S  LONELY  RANCH.  163 

much  of  this  kind  of  talk  to  be  deterred  from  his  un- 
dertaking, and  after  two  days  of  rest  at  the  trading 
post  he  was  ready  to  start  into  the  unknown  land. 

Twenty  miles  of  tedious  travel  over  a  dry  and  dusty 
road  carried  them  to  Okonagan  Smith's  ranch,  on  the 
shore  of  the  lake  which  had  given  its  name  to  the 
settler.  For  thirty  years  this  man  had  been  cultivat- 
ing a  piece  o"f  land  there,  and  he  still  has  the  country 
all  to  himself.  His  ranch  extended  into  the  lake  in 
such  a  manner  that  it  could  easily  be  irrigated,  and 
it  held  a  fine  bearing  peach  and  apple  orchard.  Here, 
with  his  Indian  wife  and  two  half-breed  daughters, 
he  was  happy  and  contented  away  from  the  cares  of 
civilisation. 

After  a  bad  night  on  account  of  the  kicking  and 
squealing  horses,  an  early  start  from  the  ranch  was 
made.  The  route  lay  eastward,  over  a  country  where 
there  was  plenty  of  wood,  water,  and  grass,  and 
Dyche  felt  that  that  trip  was  to  be  one  of  pleasure 
instead  of  the  hardships  which  he  had  previously  un- 
dergone. As  the  sequel  will  show,  his  calculations 
were  wrong.  While  passing  along  over  easy  trails 
through  the  timber,  the  naturalists  came  into  an 
opening  where  the  trees  had  been  cut  down  and  a 
broad  way  cleaned  off  as  if  a  right  of  way  for  a  rail- 
road had  been  cleared  through  the  forest.  The  work 
had  evidently  been  done  several  years  before,  as  the 
stumps  were  old.  The  broad  path  could  be  seen 
stretching  away  for  miles  in  each  direction,  going 
right  over  mountain  and  through  valley,  never  devi- 
ating from  a  straight  line.  The  strange  appearance 
greatly  puzzled  the  hunter  and  his  companion,  and 


164  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

it  was  not  until  they  reached  a  small  settlement  on 
Rock  Creek  that  the  mystery  was  cleared.  They  had 
seen  the  dividing  line  between  the  dominions  of  Eng- 
land and  the  United  States. 

That  night  they  were  compelled  to  camp  in  the 
dark,  with  neither  water  nor  grass,  and  they  chris- 
tened the  place  Camp  Necessity.  When  morning 
came  they  found  that  they  were  near  an  old  Indian 
camp.  On  all  sides  bones  of  deer  were  found,  and  a 
stack  of  antlers  twenty  feet  high  had  been  piled  up 
between  two  trees.  They  travelled  until  nine  o'clock 
before  they  found  water  and  grass.  All  day  long 
their  way  lay  through  a  dense  forest.  No  life  was 
to  be  seen  except  vegetable  life,  and  not  a  sound  was 
to  be  heard  except  the  wind  in  the  tree- tops.  After 
a  hard  struggle  through  the  fallen  timber  an  open 
spot  was  reached  on  the  river-bank  late  in  the  even- 
ing. A  beaver  dam  showed  its  top  just  above  the 
water,  and  the  trees  on  the  bank  gave  evidences  of 
the  work  of  the  industrious  animals.  One  tree  which 
had  been  cut  had  a  diameter  of  over  four  feet,  and 
from  this  the  camp  received  the  name  of  Camp 
Beaver  Tree. 

A  light  rain,  the  first  of  the  season,  fell  during  the 
night,  and  next  morning  they  started  early,  trying  to 
follow  the  old  trail  of  the  trappers.  About  the  mid- 
dle of  the  afternoon  the  cabin,  on  the  banks  of  a  little 
stream  which  emptied  into  Kettle  River,  was  reached, 
but  no  stop  was  made.  About  four  miles  farther  up 
the  river  an  opening  was  found  where  there  was 
grass  and  water,  and  here  camp  was  made  for  the 
night.     The  stillness  of  the  dense  woods  was  simply 


TRIALS  AND  TRIBULATIONS.  165 

awful.  The  only  sound  that  broke  the  silence  was 
the  dismal  hooting  of  a  number  of  owls  which  made 
night  hideous  with  their  peculiar  cry.  The  uncanny 
sound  produced  such  a  nervousness  that  sleep  was 
much  interrupted,  and  after  naming  the  place  Camp 
Owl  Hoot  the  hunters  made  haste  away  from  the 
spot.  A  tall  tree  was  climbed  and  the  lay  of  the  land 
noticed,  and  the  northward  way  resumed  about 
daylight. 

An  almost  impenetrable  forest  was  now  before 
them.  No  trail  was  to  be  found.  The  rivulet  was 
dry,  and  the  bed  of  this  was  followed  until  it  ended 
at  the  foot  of  a  ridge.  On  the  ridge  a  grassy  spot 
was  found  where  a  few  deer-tracks  gave  the  first  in- 
dication of  animal  life.  In  every  direction  from  this 
spot  dense  thickets  of  poles  stood  in  such  confusion 
that  it  was  necessary  to  cut  a  way  through.  This 
labourious  proceeding  was  continued  until  late  in  the 
evening,  when  a  small  lake  w^as  reached  and  camp 
made  for  the  night.  The  lake  was  alive  with  water- 
birds,  and  a  fat  mallard  duck  made  a  supper  for  the 
hunters.  All  seemed  peaceful  when  the  tired  natural- 
ists crawled  into  their  sleeping-bags,  but  scarcely 
had  they  composed  themselves  when  a  series  of 
shrieks  and  yells,  which  appeared  to  come  from  the 
vicinity  of  the  lake,  sent  them  bounding  from  their 
beds  to  their  guns.  The  sound  died  away,  and  after 
waiting  in  suspense  for  some  time  they  again  sought 
rest.  They  slept  soundly  until  just  at  daylight,  when 
again  the  unearthly  cries  broke  the  stillness,  and 
the  hunters  hastened  to  their  feet.  An  investigation 
showed  that  a  flock  of  loons  had  been  feeding  on  the 


166  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

lake  near  the  camp,  and  it  was  their  cries  that  caused 
the  alarm. 

No  sign  of  a  trail  could  be  found,  and  all  day  the 
cutting  of  poles  was  continued.  Night  found  the 
hunters  still  in  the  midst  of  thick  woods,  and  Dyche, 
finding  a  caribou  horn,  took  it  as  an  omen  of  good 
luck  and  made  camp  on  the  spot. 

All  next  day  was  spent  in  a  similar  manner.  The 
party  was  still  headed  up  Kettle  River,  and  pene- 
trated the  dense  mass  of  poles  and  fallen  trees.  They 
were  in  a  veritable  terra  incognita.  No  hatchet  or 
axe  had  ever  been  used  in  the  whole  expanse  of 
country.  No  sign  of  the  presence  of  man  was  to  be 
found  anywhere.  It  was  hard  and  lonesome  travel- 
ling, and  forage  for  the  horses  was  always  uncertain, 
but  there  was  a  fascination  about  it.  They  never 
knew  at  what  moment  they  might  meet  with  some 
exciting  adventure. 

Just  as  night  was  coming  on  they  saw  a  flock  of 
Canadian  grouse,  which  were  so  tame  that  six  of  them 
were  killed  with  sticks  and  stones.  These  beautiful 
birds  are  known  in  the  country  as  "fool  hens,"  on 
account  of  their  tameness.  Camp  Fool  Hen  was 
christened  and  supper  made  of  the  birds.  The  cocks 
are  a  mottled  gray  with  black  breasts.  A  small  fiery 
red  comb  stands  up  above  the  eyes,  and  usually  they 
are  strutting  around  like  miniature  turkey-gobblers. 
When  approached  they  would  run  a  few  feet  out  of 
the  way  or  fly  to  the  lowest  branches  of  the  nearest 
tree  and  sit  until  they  were  knocked  over  with  sticks. 
Over  thirty  of  them  were  killed  on  this  trip  up  Kettle 
River  with  sticks  and  stones.     Dyche  found  four  in 


THROUGH  FALLEN  TREES.  167 

an  open  space,  and  with  a  pole  twelve  feet  long  killed 
all  of  them. 

All  next  day  was  spent  in  a  wearisome  march  over 
fallen  logs  and  through  pole  thickets,  until  the  whole 
party,  horses  and  all,  were  almost  worn  out.  All  day 
long  the  horses  had  been  led  through  the  wilderness, 
jumping  over  logs  and  crawling  through  narrow 
places  until  their  legs  were  covered  with  scratches 
and  bruises.  Old  Charlie  would  try  anything  in  the 
shape  of  a  log,  and  would  jump  any  not  higher  than 
his  breast.  Billie  was  of  different  mould,  and  would 
stand  and  shake  his  head  at  every  obstruction.  If 
he  did  not  jump  when  the  head-shaking  was  fin- 
ished, that  was  the  end  of  it,  for  no  power  on  earth 
could  make  him  go  over,  and  he  had  to  be  led  around 
or  a  path  cut  through  for  him.  Camp  was  made  in 
the  densest  woods  where  a  little  water  seeped  through 
the  moss,  and  as  a  chickadee  flew  near  and  enlivened 
the  place  with  his  chirp,  the  place  was  christened 
Camp  Chickadee. 

Next  morning  Dyche  climbed  to  the  top  of  the 
tallest  tree  in  the  vicinity  and  endeavoured  to  make 
out  the  way  through  the  forest.  To  the  north  rose 
the  white-topped  mountains,  seemingly  only  about 
ten  miles  away,  and  this  sight  so  inspired  him  that 
the  party  went  forwards  with  better  heart.  For  about 
a  mile  the  way  led  through  comparatively  open  tim- 
ber, and  then  an  immense  spruce  forest  was  entered. 
A  fire  had  raged  through  this  some  time  before  and 
left  a  mass  of  fallen  logs  that  was  almost  impene- 
trable. Huge  logs  lay  in  greatest  confusion,  com- 
pelling the  travellers  to  turn  and  twist  in  every  con- 
12 


168  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

ceivable  direction,  over  and  under,  until  they  had  to 
stop  from  sheer  exhaustion.  The  horses  were  jumped 
over  logs  until  they  could  jump  no  more.  The  hunt- 
ers chopped  logs  until  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
lift  an  axe.  Then  they  came  to  a  stand-still.  A 
little  prospecting  discovered  water  and  grass  in  a 
swampy  place  near  by,  and  an  hour  was  consumed 
in  getting  the  horses  to  the  spot.  It  was  late  in  the 
afternoon,  and  camp  was  made  in  one  of  the  wildest 
places  ever  visited  by  man.  The  swamp  was  full  of 
high  and  low  bush  blueberries,  and  a  quart  of  these 
supplied  the  supper,  while  the  sparse  grass  made  a 
meal  for  the  horses.  One  day  of  rest  was  taken  here, 
for  while  it  was  not  a  good  place  to  camp,  it  was  bet- 
ter than  the  continuous  travel  through  the  wilderness 
of  poles  and  fallen  timber. 

The  density  of  the  forest  was  so  great  that  the 
white  tent  could  not  be  seen  fifty  yards  away,  and  to 
leave  camp  was  a  dangerous  undertaking.  One  per- 
son was  compelled  to  remain  at  the  tent  all  the  time 
to  give  necessary  signals  when  the  other  went  out  to 
look  for  game  or  to  spy  out  the  way.  Bear,  deer,  and 
caribou  tracks  were  seen  in  the  swamp,  but  it  was 
impossible  to  hunt  them  in  the  dense  woods.  One 
deer  came  near  the  camp  and  was  shot  for  meat. 

A  careful  examination  of  the  country  showed  the 
futility  of  an  attempt  at  farther  progress  in  that 
direction,  and  the  back  track  was  taken  for  five  or  six 
miles,  and  then  an  attempt  was  made  to  go  east. 
Seven  miles  in  this  direction  were  covered  when 
night  came  on,  and  they  were  compelled  to  camp. 
Dyche  started  on  a  prospecting  tour,  blazing  his  way, 


AN  ARDUOUS  JOURNEY.  169 

in  an  attempt  to  find  some  way  out  of  the  country, 
but  he  gave  it  up  in  despair.  Naming  the  place  Camp 
Last  Attempt,  next  morning  they  turned  south  and 
travelled  until  they  found  a  place  where  the  ground 
was  moist.  A  hole  was  dug,  and  the  seepage  gave 
enough  water  to  fill  a  quart-cup.  So  careful  were  the 
hunters  with  this  that  they  dipped  it  from  the  hole 
with  a  spoon  for  fear  of  losing  a  drop.  The  horses 
were  compelled  to  go  without  water  until  Camp 
Chickadee  was  reached  next  day. 

Resolving  on  one  more  effort  next  day,  a  northeast- 
erly direction  was  taken  with  the  hope  of  leaving  the 
worst  of  the  swamp  to  the  west.  After  a  hard  day's 
travel  a  small  opening  in  the  woods  was  found  where 
there  was  water  and  grass.  Camp  was  made,  and 
Dyche  was  soon  at  the  top  of  a  tall  tree  looking  over 
the  country.  The  bald  tops  of  the  mountains  looked 
invitingly  near,  and  it  was  determined  to  get  to  them 
if  possible.  There  was  sufiicient  grass  to  last  the 
horses  two  days,  and  it  was  decided  to  leave  them 
here  and  proceed  on  foot  to  the  base  of  the  mountain. 
Dyche  carried  the  axe,  and  the  two  men  started  due 
north,  blazing  a  trail  through  the  deep  woods.  They 
were  compelled  to  zigzag  through  the  timber,  and 
while  the  blazes  were  frequent  and  large,  there  were 
none  too  many  when  they  returned. 

At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  base  of  the 
mountains  was  reached,  and  they  hastened  to  the  top, 
where  many  tracks  of  deer  and  caribou  were  seen. 
On  all  sides  droves  of  deer  were  feeding  on  the 
rich  grass  which  grew  in  profusion  on  the  slopes. 
From  the  top  of  the  mountain  the  country  was  ex- 


170  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

amined.  The  apparently  boundless  forest  through 
which  they  had  come  appeared  to  be  a  small  grove 
compared  with  the  forest  whidi  spread  out  before 
them.  An  hour  was  spent  here,  and  then  the  hunters 
hastened  down  to  the  timber  to  find  the  way  back  to 
camp.  At  the  edge  of  the  timber  they  found  the 
blazed  trail  which  led  to  the  little  white  tent  miles 
away  in  the  trackless  forest.  If  the  darkness  should 
prevent  them  from  finding  this  trail,  then  the  search 
for  the  tent  would  be  hopeless  indeed. 

Evening  came  on  and  then  darkness,  and  then  the 
blazes  could  no  longer  be  seen.  One  of  the  hunters 
would  stand  by  a  blazed  tree  while  the  other  went  on 
until  he  found  the  next  one,  and  thus  they  proceeded, 
almost  groping  their  way,  until  half-past  ten,  when 
they  came  to  the  opening  and  found  the  tent.  It 
was  late  next  morning  when  they  arose,  and  they 
at  once  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  only  thing 
left  to  do  was  to  get  back  out  of  the  country  as  soon 
as  possible.  It  was  evident  that  they  could  not  hunt 
to  advantage  in  such  a  jungle,  and  if  they  killed 
anything  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  get  the 
specimens  out  of  the  country.  The  pack-horses  were 
so  weakened  by  lack  of  grass  and  water  that  they 
could  carry  nothing  more  than  they  had,  and  the 
specimens  would  be  so  torn  that  they  would  be  use- 
less. The  back  track  was  taken  in  a  snow-storm,  and 
the  hunters  were  almost  discouraged  over  their  bad 
luck.  The  whole  day  was  spent  chopping  a  trail 
through  the  dense  thicket  with  neither  grass  nor 
water. 

They  were  compelled  to  camp  without  water,  and 


AN  ARDUOUS  JOURNEY.  171 

when  they  began  to  prepare  supper  they  found  that  a 
hole  had  been  torn  in  the  gunny-sack  in  which  was 
carried  the  meat,  and  the  bacon  and  remaining  veni- 
son had  fallen  out  on  the  trail.  Search  was  made  for 
water,  and  a  little  was  found  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away.  Supper  of  oatmeal  mush,  biscuit,  apple-sauce, 
and  tea  was  a  light  diet  for  hungry  men,  but  it  was 
the  best  that  now  remained  until  they  could  find  some 
game.  Next  morning  Dyche  hunted  back  three  or 
four  miles  in  hopes  of  finding  the  lost  meat,  but  with 
no  success.  He  killed  a  "  fool  hen,"  but  all  other  ani- 
mal life  appeared  to  have  deserted  the  forest.  Even 
the  few  woodpeckers  which  flitted  about  the  trees 
seemed  so  cowed  by  the  stillness  that  they  neither 
tapped  the  trees  nor  cried. 

The  silence  of  these  forests  was  fairly  appalling. 
Not  a  sound  broke  the  quiet  but  the  moaning  of 
the  trees  as  they  rubbed  against  each  other.  It 
rained,  and  the  water  came  through  the  dense  tops  as 
a  fine  mist.  It  snowed,  and  the  flakes  sifted  down 
through  the  spruce  boughs  like  finely  ground  flour. 
In  this  dreary  lonesomeness  the  sound  of  the  human 
voice  appeared  strange,  and  words  were  rarely  spoken 
above  a  whisper. 

In  the  course  of  the  night  the  snow  turned  to  rain, 
and  next  morning  an  easterly  direction  was  taken. 
Down  a  canon  and  up  on  a  ridge  their  way  led  for  two 
hours,  when  the  top  of  the  mountain  was  reached. 
From  the  tops  of  trees  it  was  discovered  that  a  flat 
country  lay  to  the  northeast,  and  the  trail  was  turned 
in  this  direction.  Again  and  again  were  trees 
climbed  in  hope  of  seeing  something,  and  at  last  a 


172  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

number  of  lakes  appeared  still  farther  to  the  east.  A 
straight  trail  was  taken  to  this  spot,  and  the  lake 
was  reached  just  at  dark  in  the  midst  of  a  heavy 
snow-storm.  The  body  of  water  was  small  and  was 
full  of  beaver,  from  which  fact  it  received  the  name 
of  Beaver  Lake. 

After  breakfast  next  morning  a  little  prospecting 
was  done,  and  it  was  found  that  Beaver  Lake  emptied 
into  a  larger  lake.  In  the  centre  of  the  large  lake 
was  a  small  island,  and  it  was  named  Island  Lake. 
Camp  was  moved  to  the  shore  of  Island  Lake.  Here 
was  found  a  regular  runway  of  animals.  A  path 
made  by  bears,  deer,  caribou,  wolves,  and  wolverines 
led  all  around  the  lake.  It  was  evidently  the  spot 
where  game  could  be  found  in  abundance,  and  was 
just  the  place  for  a  long  stay.  But  Dyche  and  his 
companion  had  a  dispute  over  the  direction  of  the 
points  of  the  compass,  and  as  the  sun  decided  in 
favour  of  the  naturalist,  his  guide  had  such  a  fit  of 
sulks  that  he  insisted  upon  leaving  the  country  at 
once.  It  was  a  foolish  move,  but  it  would  have  been 
a  worse  one  for  Dyche  to  have  attempted  to  remain 
there  alone.  The  back  trail  was  taken  next  morn- 
ing through  deep  snow,  under  bushes  which  were 
bending  with  their  load  of  the  frozen  crystals. 

Out  of  meat  and  with  provisions  getting  scarcer 
every  day,  the  situation  was  desperate.  While  bean 
soup  was  considered  quite  a  delicacy  when  properly 
made  and  when  not  eaten  too  often,  it  was  found 
that  it  lacked  flavour  when  it  lacked  bacon.  "  What, 
is  bean  soup  without  bacon?"  was  an  expression  that 
became  indelibly  fixed  in  the  mind  of  the  naturalist. 


AN  ARDUOUS  JOURNEY.  178 

All  day  was  spent  in  travelling  through  the  forest, 
and  late  in  the  evening  camp  was  made  about  four 
miles  above  the  old  cabin,  whence  the  trail  led  out  to 
civilisation.  A  halt  was  made  here  for  one  day,  and 
a  fine  two-point  buck  was  killed,  giving  them  wel- 
come meat  after  their  privations.  At  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  the  cabin  was  reached, 
and  was  found  to  be  occupied  by  four  prospectors, 
who  were  delighted  over  the  "colours"  which  they 
had  found  in  the  creek.  But  indications  of  gold 
held  no  charm  for  the  naturalist,  and  the  way  down 
the  river  was  continued.  The  horses  were  in  bad 
condition,  and  they  travelled  very  slowly.  During 
one  of  his  side  excursions  after  a  straying  horse, 
Dyche  shot  a  coyote,  and  this,  with  a  dozen  or  so 
skins  of  "fool  hens,"  constituted  the  specimens 
secured  in  a  trip  of  over  a  month  in  the  wildest  part 
of  North  America. 

For  two  days  they  now  travelled  on  a  diet  of  veni- 
son, as  their  provisions  were  gone.  A  delicious  re- 
past of  ripe  peaches  from  Thorp's  orchard  freshened 
them  up  and  a  good  supper  renewed  their  energies 
so  that  they  slept  without  care. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

In  the  Cascades — A  Forest  Fire — After  Rocky  Mountain  Goats 
— The  First  Shot— Down  the  Mountain — A  Successful 
Hunter — A  Night  of  Hardships — A  Naturalist's  Labours. 

^^ShREE  days  spent  at  Thorp's  ranch  pre- 
paring for  an  expedition  after  Rocky- 
Mountain  goats  put  the  horses  in  fair  con- 
dition for  travelling,  and  they  went  along 
at  a  good  rate  on  the  first  day.  The  whole  country 
to  the  north  and  northwest  was  covered  with  smoke 
from  the  forest  fires  which  had  been  started  by  In- 
dians to  bunch  the  deer.  Hundreds  of  the  animals 
were  slaughtered  and  thousands  of  acres  of  the  most 
magnificent  timber  land  in  the  country  burned  over 
and  ruined  by  these  Indians.  On  the  first  day  out 
from  Thorp's  ranch  thirty-seven  deer  were  seen. 
There  was  a  camp  of  Indians  near  old  Camp  Victoria, 
and  here  Dyche  stopped  for  a  few  minutes'  talk  with 
the  redskins.  Dozens  of  dogs  greeted  him  as  he  ap- 
proached the  camp,  and  about  a  dozen  bucks  came 
out  and  stretched  themselves  on  the  ground  near  the 
naturalist,  with  the  exclamation  "  How  !" 

As  the  red  men  could  talk  a  little  broken  English, 
the  hunter  endeavoured  to  get  information  from  them 
regarding  game.  The  spokesman  held  up  five  fingers 
and  said,  "  Mowwich,"  indicating  that  he  had  killed 

174 


A  FOREST  FIRE.  175 

five  deer.  Then  pointing  to  each  of  his  companions 
in  turn,  he  held  up  the  number  of  fingers  suitable  to 
their  achievements  and  repeated  the  word.  Dyche 
asked  about  sheep  and  the  Indian  pointed  to  the  moun- 
tains far  to  the  west.  He  then  asked  about  goats, 
or  "white  sheep."  The  Indians  consulted  a  little 
and  then  pointed  to  the  crags  in  the  northwest  and 
said,  "  White  sheep  high  up."  One  Indian  supple- 
mented this  information  with  the  remark,  "  Me  no 
hunt  him,"  whereat  the  others  laughed  boisterously. 
Dyche  declined  the  invitation  to  "come  down,"  and 
rode  on  until  a  suitable  camping-place  was  found. 

Several  days  were  now  spent  on  the  trail  over 
mountains,  through  masses  of  rock  and  down  timber, 
while  the  whole  country  was  almost  obscured  by  the 
smoke  from  fires  which  were  raging  on  the  other 
side  of  the  range.  Finally  farther  headway  was  pre- 
vented by  the  fire,  and  in  a  little  valley,  through  which 
leaped  a  sparkling  stream  and  along  whose  edges 
grew  an  abundance  of  grass,  camp  was  made.  A 
fence  of  poles  behind  them  and  the  fire  below  pre- 
vented the  horses  from  straying  awaj'-.  As  usual,  old 
Charlie  would  not  go  away  from  the  tent,  and  it 
became  necessary  to  lead  him  down  to  the  stream  to 
keep  him  away  from  the  camp.  He  seemed  to  pre- 
fer the  smell  of  the  camp  to  the  best  grass  on  the 
range.  During  the  whole  time  he  was  in  the  moun- 
tains he  always  remained  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
tent  unless  he  was  driven  away. 

Immediately  after  camp  was  made  Dyche  started 
on  an  exploring  expedition.  A  light  breeze  was 
blowing  the  smoke  in  great  clouds  up  the  east  side  of 


176  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

the  canon,  and  Dyche  climbed  the  west  side.  After 
hours  of  hard  work  he  reached  a  projecting  crag, 
where  the  full  beauty  and  magnificence  of  the  moun- 
tain fire  burst  on  his  gaze.  Thousands  upon  thou- 
sands of  veritable  monarchs  of  the  forest  were  being 
swallowed  up  in  the  dreadful  conflagration.  Ruin 
was  spreading  over  miles  of  territory,  simply  that 
the  lazy  Indians  might  hunt  more  easily. 

On  the  way  down  the  mountain  he  noticed  a  bunch 
of  white  bristly  hair  attached  to  a  jutting  rock,  and 
by  the  light  of  the  camp-fire  he  decided  that  it  had 
been  scratched  from  the  side  of  a  Eocky  Mountain 
goat.  This  convinced  the  naturalist  that  he  was 
near  the  animals  for  which  this  trip  had  been  made, 
and  daylight  next  morning  found  him  on  his  way  up 
the  side  of  the  mountain. 

Here  were  the  steepest  and  most  inaccessible  of  the 
steep  and  rugged  Cascades.  Long  ages  of  frost  and 
sunshine  had  torn  great  masses  of  rock  from  the  sides 
of  the  projecting  crags,  which  had  plunged  to  the  bot- 
tom, ploughing  immense  furrows  down  the  moun- 
tain's sides  and  piling  up  in  a  confused  jumble  at 
the  base.  From  the  almost  perpendicular  sides  of  the 
precipices  projected  here  and  there  shelves  or  benches 
of  rock,  to  which  clung  stunted  and  dwarfed  growths 
of  pines  and  spruce,  while  zigzagging  up  from  one 
bench  to  another  were  little  gulches  or  chasms 
which  gave  the  explorer  an  opportunity  to  reach  the 
top  after  the  expenditure  of  great  labour.  Two 
hours  of  hard  work  placed  Dyche  about  two-thirds 
of  the  way  up  the  mountain,  and  here  he  found 
a  shelf  running  apparently  around  the  face  of  the 


AFTER  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  GOATS.  177 

crags.  Following  along  this  bench  he  reached  a 
point  overlooking  the  entire  valley  below,  and  here 
he  found,  in  the  crumbling  rock  and  debris,  the  bed 
of  a  goat.  It  was  similar  to  those  which  the  sheep 
had  made,  but  sticking  to  the  sides  could  be  seen 
the  long  bristly  white  hairs  of  the  goat. 

Here  evidently  the  old  billy  had  selected  a  spot  in 
which  to  chew  his  cud,  for  from  this  point  .he  could 
view  the  whole  country  at  his  leisure.  A  short  dis- 
tance farther  on  three  more  beds  were  found,  and 
many  tracks  indicated  that  this  bench  was  the  favour- 
ite resting-place  for  goats.  While  proceeding  cau- 
tiously, Dyche  was  suddenly  brought  to  a  stand-still 
by  the  noise  of  a  stone  rolling  down  the  mountain 
ahead  of  him.  Well  knowing  that  when  stones  move 
some  animal  life  must  be  near,  he  stopped  and  listened 
until  the  noise  was  repeated,  and  then  he  ran  to  the 
end  of  the  bench,  about  a  hundred  yards  beyond. 
The  increasing  noise  showed  that  some  animal  was 
hastening  down  the  mountain. 

Slipping  off  his  shoes  and  depositing  his  camera 
with  them,  the  naturalist  started  on  a  noiseless  run 
towards  the  place  whence  came  the  sound.  At  this 
point  the  formation  of  the  mountain  was  peculiar,  in 
that  there  were  two  shelves  or  benches,  one  a  short 
distance  above  the  other.  These  were  connected  by 
a  series  of  gulches,  thus  lea-ving  a  number  of  jutting 
crags  extending  from  the  upper  bench.  The  animal 
reached  the  end  of  the  lower  bench  as  the  hunter  ar- 
rived at  the  end  of  the  upper,  and  now  began  a  race 
back.  As  Dyche  reached  the  crag  he  saw  some  white, 
shaggy  object  just  disappearing  around  the  rock  be- 


178  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

low  him.  The  first  thought  that  flashed  across  the 
mind  of  the  naturalist  was  that  it  answered  the  de- 
scription of  a  polar  bear,  and  then  he  realised  that  he 
had  seen  a  goat.  The  animal  was  skulking  along  on 
the  lower  bench  at  a  fair  gait,  and  Dyche  turned  and 
ran  back  along  the  upper  ledge  as  fast  and  silently  as 
possible.  He  reached  the  head  of  the  first  gulch 
just  in  time  to  see  the  goat  go  behind  the  next  crag, 
and  then  made  another  run  of  about  forty  yards  to 
the  next  opening,  where  he  got  another  sight  of  it. 
Dyche  was  running  up  and  down  the  mountain, 
while  the  animal  was  going  along  on  a  level.  Al- 
most exhausted,  and  breathless  from  running  so  vio- 
lently in  the  high  altitude,  his  hmgs  working  to  their 
full  capacity,  perspiration  pouring  down  his  face,  and 
his  heart  throbbing  as  if  it  would  burst,  the  hunter 
pressed  on. 

Another  run  and  a  rest  and  he  could  hear  the 
stones  rolling  ahead  of  him.  Again  he  ran  fifty 
yards,  calling  into  play  all  his  surplus  energy,  and 
waited  on  the  point  of  a  crag,  but  again  he  was  just 
too  late.  He  could  hear  the  animal  still  ahead  of 
him.  A  run  of  a  hundred  yards  at  full  speed  placed 
the  hunter  on  a  crag  just  in  time  to  see  the  goat  dis- 
appear about  seventy  yards  away.  This  sight  was 
sufficient  to  nerve  the  naturalist  for  one  more  effort. 
A  grand  spurt  was  made  for  about  twenty-five  yards 
up  hill,  and  the  head  of  the  cove  was  reached.  Dyche 
stopped,  gasping  for  breath  and  almost  exhausted, 
but  stood  stock-still  and  listened.  Suddenly  a  big 
white  object  sprang  upon  a  crag  in  front  of  and  be- 
low him,  not  over   seventy-five    yards    away.      It 


DOWN  THE  MOUNTAIN.  179 

was  a  large  goat,  the  animal  which  had  given 
him  such  a  chase.  Wiping  the  perspiration  from 
his  eyes,  the  naturalist  drew  down  the  Winchester 
and  compelled  his  muscles  to  be  steady  long  enough 
to  take  good  aim,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he 
was  almost  sinking  from  exhaustion.  Logs  and 
rocks  obscured  the  goat,  so  that  Dyche  was  com- 
pelled to  stand  on  tiptoe  to  get  sight  at  the  top  of  the 
goat's  back. 

'With  the  report  of  the  gun  the  animal  disap- 
peared in  a  cloud  of  dust  which  rose  from  the  spot 
below  where  it  had  been  standing.  Down  the  canon 
rushed  the  excited  naturalist  after  the  goat.  Roll- 
ing and  tumbling,  he  went  down  the  gulch  to  the 
place  where  the  goat  had  been,  but  it  was  gone. 
A  cloud  of  dust,  however,  showed  that  the  animal 
was  also  rolling  down  the  declivity  ahead  of  him, 
and  without  waiting  to  figure  on  the  consequences 
the  hunter  dashed  after  his  prize.  The  melt- 
ing snow  had  left  a  mass  of  debris  in  the  gulch 
which  had  been  ground  to  dust  and  which  was  now 
dry  and  light.  The  struggles  of  the  goat  sent  this 
dust  rolling  in  clouds  back  to  where  the  naturalist 
was  following  and  almost  choked  him.  Slipping 
and  falling  he  hurried  on,  and  at  last  saw  the  shaggy 
brute  lying  on  its  back  by  the  side  of  a  log.  As  it 
stood  on  the  crag  it  had  looked  like  a  small  albino 
buffalo,  and  when  dead  the  resemblance  was  al- 
most perfect.  The  ball  had  gone  through  the  top 
of  the  back  just  above  the  spine  and  had  paralyzed 
the  fore-legs.  The  goat  was  making  ineffectual 
struggles  to  get  on  its  feet.     Dyche  rolled  down  to 


180  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

within  a  few  feet  of  the  animal  and  lay  there  so  ex- 
hausted that  he  could  not  move. 

It  was  well  that  the  goat  was  disabled,  for  the 
hunter  could  have  done  nothing  to  have  stopped  it 
had  it  recovered  sufficiently  to  start  away.  Thus  he 
lay  for  full  five  minutes,  gasping,  before  he  could 
recover  sufiiciently  to  attend  to  his  game.  Regaining 
his  breath  and  strength  by  degrees,  the  naturalist 
finally  began  taking  notes,  and  having  dispatched  the 
goat  with  his  knife,  he  walked  back  to  the  place  where 
he  had  left  his  camera.  He  photographed  the  animal 
just  as  it  had  fallen.  Three  hours  were  now  spent  in 
measuring  and  skinning  the  goat,  and  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  the  hunter  started  for  camp  at  the 
foot  of  a  steep  mountain. 

The  package  of  skin  and  bones  was  about  as  heavy 
a  load  as  Dyche  could  well  carry,  and  to  add  to  his 
discomfort  he  was  terribly  thirsty.  He  had  had 
nothing  to  drink  since  he  left  camp  early  in  the 
morning,  and  his  great  exertions  had  caused  such 
violent  perspiration  that  his  system  was  depleted  of 
water.  At  four  o'clock  he  had  gone  about  half  a 
mile,  and  found  himself  on  a  shelf  from  which  there 
appeared  no  possible  means  of  farther  descent.  A 
lower  bench  was  finally  reached,  but  no  water  could 
be  found.  While  searching  here  for  a  path  another 
goat  was  seen  feeding  on  a  rocky  ridge  across  a 
small  canon  about  four  hundred  yards  away. 

Removing  his  shoes,  the  naturalist  began  a  stalk, 
but  soon  found  that  he  could  not  get  nearer  than 
three  hundred  yards  in  that  direction,  so  he  crawled 
back  and  descended  to  a  lower  level.     Slipping  along 


A  SUCCESSFUL  HUNTER.  181 

the  ridge,  he  reached  a  spot  wliich  he  supposed  would 
be  within  easy  range  of  the  goat.  He  peered  round 
the  edge  of  the  crag,  but  the  animal  had  disappeared. 
The  goat,  however,  came  from  behind  a  rock  and 
stood  about  a  hundred  j^ards  away.  He  was  across 
a  canon,  but  the  naturalist  rested  the  Winchester  on 
a  rock  and  after  steady  aim  fired.  The  goat  plunged 
head  foremost  over  the  cliff  into  the  canon  below. 
Dyche  hastened  back  after  his  shoes  and  load  of 
skins,  and  went  after  his  second  prize,  which  he 
found  at  the  foot  of  the  precipice. 

The  naturalist's  thirst  was  so  overpowering  that 
he  determined  to  drink  the  blood  of  the  goat,  but 
when  he  cut  the  animal  open  the  strong  musky  odour 
was  too  much  for  him,  and  he  gave  up  the  idea. 
Finding  that  little  progress  could  be  made  down  the 
mountains  with  his  load,  he  now  determined  to  cache 
his  specimens  and  come  back  for  them  next  day.  A 
tree  was  stripped  of  its  branches  with  the  exception 
of  a  bunch  at  the  top,  and  to  this  he  tied  the  bundle 
of  skins  and  bones,  and  to  make  it  even  more  con- 
spicuous he  tied  his  camera  to  the  bare  portion  of  the 
trunk.  The  descent  to  the  bottom  of  the  mountain 
was  now  made,  and  here  he  piled  up  stones  to  mark 
the  spot,  and  placed  three  piles  of  small  stones  on  a 
log.     It  was  dark  now. 

Fully  satisfying  himself  that  he  would  have  no 
difficulty  in  finding  the  place  where  he  had  come 
down  the  mountain,  Dyche  now  set  himself  to  the  task 
of  reaching  the  river  in  order  that  he  might  quench 
the  almost  overpowering  thirst.  The  river  was  near, 
but  the  great  masses  of  stone  which  had  crumbled 


182  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

from  the  mountain  presented  an  almost  impassable 
barrier.  At  last  the  edge  of  the  river  was  reached, 
but  he  found  another  difficulty.  Great  piles  of 
rocks  barred  the  way,  and  the  steep  declivity  pre- 
cluded all  possibility  of  getting  down.  The  sound 
of  the  running  and  babbling  water  as  it  dashed  over 
the  stones  in  the  river-bed  was  maddening.  Dyche 
struggled  along,  over  bowlders  and  under  logs,  and 
through  bushes  which  held  him  back  as  if  leagued 
with  the  powers  of  darkness  to  restrain  him  in  his 
efforts.  Darkness  came  on  and  still  he  struggled  on, 
fearing  all  the  while  that  he  would  fall  into  some 
hole  in  the  rocks  from  which  he  could  never  get  out. 
Feeling  his  way,  he  finally  emerged,  but  he  was 
worse  off  than  before,  for  here  th'e  fallen  timber, 
overgrown  with  bushes  and  briers,  was  so  heavy 
that  it  made  a  dense  jungle.  At  times  he  would 
run  against  a  great  rock  that  stood  higher  than 
his  head,  and  then  he  would  get  into  a  tangle  of 
briers  so  thick  that  minutes  were  spent  in  getting 
through. 

His  exhaustion  was  now  so  great  and  his  thirst  so 
maddening  that  the  naturalist  tore  his  way  through 
the  briers  and  underbrush,  unmindful  of  the  cuts  and 
scratches.  He  was  in  a  frightful  condition,  and  felt 
that  his  brain  was  turning  from  his  tormenting  thirst. 
A  patch  of  "devil's  walking-sticks,"  a  shrub  whose 
curved  thorns  hold  all  they  catch,  barred  his  way, 
and  he  felt  as  if  Satan  himself  had  lent  a  hand  to 
keep  him  from  getting  water.  At  last,  however, 
he  reached  the  river.  A  log  reaching  from  the 
bank  gave  him  access  to  the  water,  and  after  wash- 


A  NIGHT  OF  HARDSHIPS.  183 

ing  his  burning  face  and  hands  he  began  the  work 
of  quenching  his  thirst.  He  drank  slowly  and  finally 
felt  that  he  had  sufficient.  But  as  he  started  from 
the  water  he  felt  the  thirst  again  and  drank  again 
and  again. 

Reaching  the  top  of  the  bank,  the  naturalist  sat 
down  to  consider  his  situation.  He  had  promised 
himself  that  when  he  reached  water  he  would  camp 
for  the  night,  but  now  he  felt  so  refreshed  that  he 
thought  he  would  get  to  the  tent  and  have  a  good  rest 
and  breakfast  before  he  started  again  for  his  speci- 
mens. By  this  time  he  was  again  very  thirsty,  and  he 
made  another  trip  to  the  water  before  he  started  up  the 
river.  He  knew  the  camp  was  above  him,  but  just 
how  far  he  could  not  tell.  An  hour  or  more  was 
spent  in  getting  through  the  underbrush,  and  then 
he  was  compelled  to  get  another  drink.  He  now  deter- 
mined to  make  one  more  effort,  and  if  he  failed  he 
would  give  up  for  the  night.  Stumbling  along  over 
rocks  and  poles,  he  soon  found  himself  in  a  wilderness 
of  huge  logs.  It  was  so  dark  that  he  ran  into  the  trees 
before  he  was  aware  of  their  vicinity.  Feeling  his 
way  along,  stumbling  and  falling,  with  bruised  and 
bleeding  limbs,  he  was  indeed  a  pitiable  object,  but  he 
pushed  on  and  on.  Finally  he  sat  on  a  log  and  gave 
up.  He  dozed  and  nodded  from  exhaustion,  when 
suddenly  he  heard  a  shot  away  up  the  canon.  It  was 
evidently  the  guide  making  signals  to  bring  him  into 
camp.  Giving  the  answer  he  now  pushed  on,  won- 
dering why  the  shots  sounded  so  far  away.  Once 
again  the  shots  were  exchanged,  and  from  the  sound 

he  judged  the  camp  must  be  fully  five  miles  away. 
13 


184  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

Striking  a  match,  he  looked  at  his  watch  and  found 
that  it  was  just  eleven  o'clock. 

His  hands  and  feet  were  burning  and  he  was  so 
dead  tired  that  when  he  sat  down  to  rest  he  would 
almost  instantly  drop  to  sleep,  to  be  awakened  by 
almost  falling  from  his  seat.  Then  he  would  push 
on  again.  The  rushing  of  the  water  over  the  bowl- 
ders, the  weird  sounds  of  the  forest,  the  roaring  of 
the  fires  which  raged  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  canon 
combined  to  make  night  hideous  and  still  farther  de- 
press him  in  his  terrible  condition;  but  he  pushed 
on,  determined  to  reach  camp,  now  that  he  knew  the 
direction  of  it. 

The  extreme  exhaustion  now  began  to  tell  most 
strangely  on  Dyche's  brain.  Odd  fancies  and  queer 
hallucinations  flashed  through  his  mind,  and  thoughts 
that  under  ordinary  circumstances  would  have  ap- 
peared foolish  now  had  serious  consideration.  At 
last  he  reached  a  little  opening  in  the  jungle  and 
found  himself  in  a  small  park.  He  had  just  begun 
to  breathe  freer,  when  there  arose  at  his  feet  some 
huge  animal  which  made  two  or  three  bounds  away 
and  then  stood  stock-still.  To  say  that  the  naturalist 
was  scared  is  putting  it  mildly.  He  lost  entirely 
the  little  of  his  self-control  which  had  remained 
after  the  awful  experience  of  the  night  in  the  jungle. 
Tears  involuntarily  came  into  his  eyes,  his  blood 
seemed  to  stand  still,  while  chills  began  at  his  feet 
and  crept  all  over  his  body,  up  and  down.  Fright- 
ened? He  was  so  frightened  that  he  felt  that  he 
should  go  insane  unless  something  happened  to  re- 
lieve the  awful  strain. 


A  NIGHT  OF  HARDSHIPS.  185 

He  threw  his  gun  forwards,  of  course,  at  the  first 
movement  of  the  animal,  but  the  strange  silence  puz- 
zled him.  Not  a  sound,  not  a  movement  was  made 
by  the  big  beast.  Dyche  thought  he  would  light  a 
match,  but  gave  up  the  idea  for  fear  he  would  be  at- 
tacked when  the  brute  saw  what  a  puny  thing  he  was. 
He  moved  a  few  steps  forwards,  making  as  much  noise 
as  possible,  but  the  animal  did  not  move.  Again  he 
advanced,  shuffling  his  feet,  and  the  strange  ob- 
ject moved  only  a  step  or  two  and  again  stood 
still.  Dyche  knew  of  no  animal  as  large  as  this 
which  would  act  in  that  way,  unless  it  was  a  grizzly 
bear  which  had  never  seen  a  man.  His  next  im- 
pulse was  to  shout,  for  he  knew  that  the  human  voice 
had  a  wonderful  effect  upon  wild  animals.  Acting 
on  this  idea  he  shrieked  and  shouted,  but  not  a  sound 
came  from  the  place  where  the  strange  beast  stood. 
He  called  his  guide,  he  called  all  the  names  he  could 
think  of,  but  not  a  motion  was  made.  Then  he 
shouted  again  and  called  his  old  horse  Charlie.  The 
result  was  most  startling.  Old  Charlie  answered  with 
a  whinny  from  the  very  spot  where  the  strange  beast 
stood.  Another  call  brought  the  horse  to  him,  and 
then  Dyche  cried  from  revulsion  of  feeling.  He 
petted  the  horse,  and  then  fell  to  wondering  what 
could  have  brought  him  so  far  from  camp.  It  was  the 
horse  that  had  to  be  driven  away  to  grass.  Know- 
ing that  there  must  be  a  trail  over  which  the  horse 
had  come,  Dyche  took  hold  of  his  tail  and  endeavoured 
to  drive  him  back  to  the  tent. 

Charlie  went  forwards  a  few  paces  and  then 
stopped.     Dyche  clucked  at  him  and  struck  him,  but 


186  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

the  old  fellow  would  only  wander  around  in  a  circle. 
At  last  the  horse  brushed  past  a  pole  on  which  hung 
a  gunny-sack.  Dyche  remembered  noticing  this  as 
he  came  into  the  canon,  and  now  he  began  to  wonder 
how  far  that  pole  was  from  camp.  He  struck  Charlie 
again  and  made  him  go  forwards.  Suddenly  there 
loomed  up  beside  him  some  big  white  object  which 
he  took  for  a  rock,  but  on  feeling  it  found  that  it  was 
the  tent.  Charlie  had  not  broken  his  record,  but 
was  right  in  camp.  In  a  few  minutes  a  fire  was 
burning  brightly  and  supper  was  under  way.  It 
was  after  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  the  guide 
was  not  there.  The  shots  had  evidently  been  fired 
far  up  the  canon  by  the  man,  who  was  also  lost. 
He  returned  to  camp  next  day,  having  lain  out  on 
the  mountain  all  night. 

By  half-past  two  Dyche  finished  his  supper,  or 
breakfast,  and  bath,  and  rolled  into  his  sleeping-bag, 
feeling  that  "all's  well  that  ends  well."  But  the 
troubles  of  the  night  were  not  over.  Just  as  he  be- 
gan to  doze  he  felt  something  run  across  his  bed,  and 
then  heard  a  dragging  noise  on  the  floor  of  the  tent. 
A  mountain  rat  was  exploring  the  place.  After 
standing  it  as  long  as  h  could,  the  naturalist  got  up 
and  set  a  trap  for  the  intruder.  He  had  scarcely 
got  back  to  bed  when  the  trap  snapped  and  the  rat 
squealed.  This  noise  had  to  be  stopped,  so  Dyche 
got  up  and  killed  the  rat,  setting  the  trap  again. 
The  minute  he  touched  the  bed  another  marauder 
was  caught,  and  then  until  morning  the  trap  was 
kept  busy  and  a  family  of  seven  rats  were  killed. 
When  the  last  one  was  gone  it  was  broad  daylight. 


A  NATURALIST'S  LABOURS.  187 

and  not  a  wink  of  sleep  had  Dyche  had.  For  once 
in  his  life  the  episodes  of  the  night  were  too  much 
for  the  naturalist's  nerves  and  he  could  not  sleep. 
He  lay  for  two  hours  thinking  of  the  specimens  away 
up  the  mountain  which  must  be  brought  into  camp 
and  taken  care  of. 

The  previous  day  had  been  nineteen  hours  long 
and  had  been  supplemented  by  a  sleepless  night,  and 
Dyche  felt  little  like  again  climbing  the  mountain ; 
but  he  knew  that  if  he  wanted  to  preserve  his  goat- 
skins he  must  bring  them  into  camp.  His  feet  were 
bruised,  his  hands  and  face  scratched  and  sore  from 
the  briers  and  "  devil's  walking-sticks,"  and  his  whole 
body  ached  from  the  extraordinary  exertions  of  the 
previous  day;  but  he  started  after  his  specimens. 
Not  caring  to  repeat  his  experience  of  thirst,  he  took 
a  powder-can  of  water  with  him.  Following  down 
the  river  over  the  bowlders  and  through  the  thickets, 
he  finally  found  the  piles  of  stones  which  marked  the 
spot  where  he  had  descended  the  mountain. 

But  something  was  evidently  wrong.  Hours  were 
spent  searching  for  the  skins,  but  not  a  sign  of  them 
or  the  tree  which  had  been  so  plainly  marked  could 
be  seen.  Up  and  down  he  climbed,  searching  in 
every  direction,  and  at  last,  after  going  away  off 
to  one  side,  he  found  the  place  where  he  had  killed 
the  old  goat,  and  then  following  his  trail  he  found 
the  cached  specimens.  He  then  found  that  in  going 
down  the  mountain  the  evening  before  he  had  gone 
over  a  mile  to  one  side  before  he  reached  the  bottom 
of  the  cliff.  It  was  half-past  three  in  the  afternoon 
when  he  reached  the  tree,  and  it  was  three  hours 


188  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

later  when  he  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
with  his  load.  He  dreaded  the  hard  climb  over  the 
rocks  to  camp,  but  determined  to  do  as  much  as 
possible.  Leaving  the  skin  of  one  goat  and  the  skulls 
hanging  to  a  rock,  he  started  with  the  skin  of  the 
old  billy,  which  weighed  thirty-eight  pounds,  and 
managed  to  reach  camp  after  eight  o'clock.  He  was 
soon  asleep,  after  nearly  forty  hours  of  sleeplessness 
and  terrible  exertion. 

Next  morning  Dyche's  knees  were  so  sore  and  stiff 
that  he  had  to  toast  them  before  a  hot  fire  and  soak 
them  in  vaseline  before  he  could  walk.  This  and  the 
two  following  days  were  spent  in  getting  the  remain- 
ing skin  and  the  skeletons  into  camp  and  dressing 
them.  These  five  days  were  spent  in  securing  two 
specimens,  and  as  the  three  last  days  were  in  camp, 
Dyche  was  well  rested  and  started  on  the  sixth  day 
for  the  mountains.  While  travelling  down  the  moun- 
tain a  goat  made  its  appearance  about  half  a  mile 
away  on  a  little  flat-topped  spur  which  extended  out 
from  the  main  ridge.  The  animal  was  feeding  and 
could  have  been  easily  stalked  from  the  main  ridge, 
but  the  wind  was  unfavourable,  and  Dyche  concluded 
to  crawl  down  one  canon  and  up  another,  under  cover 
of  the  crag  on  which  the  goat  stood.  Reaching  the 
spot  where  the  animal  had  been  feeding,  the  natural- 
ist could  see  nothing  of  it.  An  examination  showed 
where  a  nanny  and  a  kid  had  been  feeding,  and  as  they 
were  just  what  Dyche  wanted,  he  proceeded  very 
carefully  along  the  cliff.  Hearing  the  sound  of  roll- 
ing stones  ahead  of  him,  he  hurried  forwards  and  saw 
an  old  she-goat  with  a  kid  on  the  other  side  of  the 


A  NATURALIST'S  LABOURS.  189 

canon.  With  the  crack  of  the  ritle  the  old  goat 
pitched  forwards  and  rolled  down  the  slope,  while 
the  kid  hid  behind  some  rocks.  After  waiting  fully 
five  minutes  for  the  kid  to  c<?me  out,  the  hunter 
changed  his  position  and  the  little  fellow  jumped 
out  and  started  to  run.  The  gun  cracked  again, 
and  the  kid  went  rolling  down  to  join  its  mother. 
It  made  a  sheer  fall  of  fifty  feet.  The  skull  was 
crushed,  the  jaw  broken  in  several  places,  the  leg 
and  shoulder  broken,  the  skin  torn,  and  worst  of  all, 
the  horns  were  broken  off  and  one  lost.  This  almost 
ruined  the  specimen,  but  Dyche  spent  twenty  minutes 
searching  for  the  horn,  and  was  fortunate  enough  to 
find  it.  The  kid  was  measured,  and  skinned,  and 
then  the  search  began  for  the  old  one.  She  had  lodged 
on  a  projecting  ledge,  and  the  naturalist  was  com- 
pelled to  work  for  some  time  to  dislodge  her.  He  was 
finally  compelled  to  get  a  long  pole  and  make  a  lad- 
der by  which  he  got  down  to  the  goat,  and  here  he 
was  compelled  to  tie  himself  to  the  rock  to  prevent 
a  fall  while  he  worked  over  the  specimen.  Dyche 
was  so  worn  out  that  when  he  reached  the  foot  of 
the  mountain  he  cached  the  specimens,  and  with  only 
a  portion  of  the  flesh  of  the  kid  he  went  on  to  camp. 
He  found,  however,  that  the  flesh,  even  of  the  kid, 
was  hardly  fit  to  eat,  for  it  was  so  permeated  with 
the  musk  of  the  glands  that  it  was  unpalatable.  On 
this  trip  Dyche  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  a  spring 
of  pure  water  on  the  range,  probably  the  only  one  on 
the  mountain,  and  this  was  always  made  the  objec- 
tive point  of  all  trips  hereafter. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A  Peculiar  Danger — Four  Goats  in  Four  Shots — A  Rapidly- 
Disappearing  Tribe — Description  and  Habits — A  Persist- 
ent Hunter. 

EANTIME  the  mountain  fires  had  been 
steadily  increasing  and  advancing  until 
the  camp  was  threatened,  and  Dyche  be- 
gan to  fear  that  all  his  labour  would  be  in 
if  the  fire  came  down  the  mountain  the 
skins  and  skeletons  would  be  destroyed.  It  was  with 
a  feeling  of  great  joy  that  the  naturalist  awoke  next 
morning  and  saw  the  rain  pouring  down.  It  was 
the  first  of  the  season  in  that  locality  and  came  in 
such  quantities  that  the  fires  were  soon  checked  and 
then  were  drowned  out  entirely,  with  the  exception 
of  smouldering  logs  here  and  there.  The  air  cleared, 
and  the  thin  spiral  columns  of  smoke  ascending  from 
various  points  over  the  mountain  were  the  only  evi- 
dences of  the  conflagration  that  had  lately  been 
raging  within  a  few  miles  of  the  camp. 

Dyche  at  once  started  after  his  specimens  and 
brought  them  into  camp,  putting  the  skins  in  a  pickle. 
It  continued  to  rain,  and  soon  the  tops  of  the  moun- 
tains took  on  a  mantle  of  white ;  and  as  the  rain  in- 
creased, the  snow-line  crept  lower  and  lower,  until  it 
reached  the  green  of  the  timber.     Now  another  dan- 

190 


Almost  despairing. 


A  PECULIAR  DANGER.  191 

ger  menaced  the  hunters'  camp.  The  peculiar  for- 
mation of  the  mountain  caused  great  masses  of  rock 
to  split  off,  owing  to  the  action  of  the  water,  and 
immense  bowlders  were  continually  rolling  down  into 
the  canon.  The  stillness  of  the  mountain  would  sud- 
denly be  broken  by  an  explosion  resembling  the  rattle 
of  musketry,  and  then  a  great  mass  of  rocks  would 
lean  out  from  the  face  of  the  cliff  and  topple  over, 
falling,  rolling,  and  tumbling  to  the  bottom  and 
sometimes  going  as  far  as  the  river.  These  rock 
slides  would  crush  everything  before  them,  and  im- 
mense trees  and  bowlders  were  torn  from  their  foun- 
dations and  hurled  with  the  force  of  an  avalanche 
to  the  bottom. 

This  was  very  dangerous,  for  if  such  a  slide  ever 
struck  camp  there  would  be  nothing  left  to  tell  the 
tale.  One  incident  convinced  the  naturalist  that  he 
could  not  get  away  too  soon.  It  was  after  mid- 
night when  Dyche  was  aroused  by  a  peculiar  roaring 
and  rumbling  noise  directly  above  their  heads  on 
the  side  of  the  mountain.  The  two  men  were  out  of 
their  sleeping-bags  in  an  instant,  and  a  run  of  thirty 
yards  placed  them  behind  an  immense  tree  which  had 
previously  been  selected  for  just  such  an  emergency. 
The  tree  was  over  five  feet  in  diameter,  but  even 
then  Dyche  feared  that  it  would  not  withstand  the 
terrible  force  of  the  rocks.  An  immense  landslide 
had  broken  loose  half  a  mile  above  the  camp  and 
came  roaring  down  with  the  speed  of  an  express 
train.  It  passed  a  few  feet  to  the  south  of  the 
camp  and  expended  its  force  among  the  bowlders 
and  in  the  river.      Sleep  was  over  for  that  night, 


193  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

for  they  could  not  tell  how  soon  another  mass  might 
come  down,  nor  did  they  know  until  morning  that 
their  horses  had  escaped. 

The  continued  rain  and  snow  and  the  falling 
rocks  convinced  Dyche  that  he  had  better  finish  his 
hunt  as  soon  as  possible  and  get  away.  He  had 
two  fine  skeletons  and  four  skins,  and  the  natu- 
ralist would  have  been  satisfied  with  these  alone,  for 
he  had  as  many  as  were  possessed  by  all  the  museums 
of  the  world ;  but  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  try  once 
more  to  get  specimens  while  he  was  so  near  the 
fountain-head.  Next  morning  he  went  over  the 
ground  traversed  during  the  first  hunt.  It  had 
ceased  raining  and  everything  was  covered  with 
snow.  The  naturalist  wandered  along,  feeling  re- 
paid for  his  trouble  in  the  beauty  of  the  mountain- 
tops  after  the  snow-storm.  But  his  meditations  on 
nature  were  soon  diverted.  At  his  feet  he  saw  a 
goat-track  plain  and  fresh  in  the  snow,  and  this 
he  followed  over  the  rocks  until  it  seemed  to  be 
directed  towards  a  bold  crag  which  jutted  out  from 
the  side  of  the  mountain. 

The  tracks  led  directly  to  the  jutting  crag,  and 
when  that  was  reached  Dyche  was  amazed  to  find 
that  the  animals  had  gone  around  the  cliff  on  a  ledge 
which  a  dog  would  have  been  unable  to  traverse. 
The  little  shelf  was  but  a  few  inches  wide.  On 
one  side  was  a  sheer  descent  of  hundreds  of  feet, 
while  the  perpendicular  wall  rose  to  the  clouds  on 
the  other.  The  appearance  of  the  place  was  such 
that  it  seemed  possible  only  for  an  animal  with 
wings  to  go  around  it,  yet  those  goats  had  gone 


FOUR  GOATS  IN  FOUR  SHOTS.  193 

over  the  ledge  as  calmly  as  if  it  were  their  usual 
route.  The  naturalist  found  that  he  must  retrace  his 
steps  and  ascend  to  a  higher  ledge  before  he  could 
work  around  the  crag.  Having  done  this,  he  was 
moving  slowly  along  the  side  of  the  mountain,  keep- 
ing good  watch  over  the  country,  when  he  saw  four 
goats  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  canon. 

The  goats  were  over  half  a  mile  away,  and  were 
evidently  those  which  he  had  followed  to  the  crag. 
They  were  not  as  watchful  as  the  sheep  which  he  had 
hunted,  for  they  fed  along  with  heads  down.  An 
hour's  stalk  took  the  hunter  to  the  spot  where  the 
goats  had  last  been  seen,  but  they  were  gone.  Fear- 
ful that  they  had  taken  the  alarm,  Dyche  walked 
carefully  along  the  ridge.  Looking  over  into  a 
little  draw,  he  saw  them  all  feeding  in  a  grassy  spot 
on  the  opposite  side  of  a  deep  canon.  Another  hour's 
hard  work  brought  the  naturalist  near  the  game. 
The  animals  were  now  in  plain  sight,  not  over  two 
hundred  yards  away.  Skulking  and  crawling  the 
hunter  reached  a  log,  and  behind  this  he  lay  and 
watched  the  goats. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  shoot,  for  they  were 
within  easy  range,  but  a  moment's  reflection  showed 
him  that  they  were  feeding  towards  him.  They 
moved  slowly,  feeding  part  of  the  time  and  then 
moving  about  aimlessly,  but  all  the  while  coming 
nearer  and  nearer.  At  last  they  were  within  a 
hundred  yards  and  in  a  comparatively  clear  place. 
Carefully  examining  his  gun  to  see  that  it  was  in 
good  order  and  that  the  sights  were  in  place,  Dyche 
prepared  for  the  shot.      He  examined  the  ground 


194  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

and  decided  on  the  place  to  which  he  would  jump 
when  he  fired  the  first  shot.  Training  the  gun  on  a 
low  shoulder-spot  on  the  first  goat,  he  fired  and  then 
jumped  to  his  feet.  The  other  three  animals  were 
going  at  full  speed  towards  the  timber.  A  yearling 
ran  along  a  log  and  received  a  shot  as  it  turned  its 
side  to  the  hunter.  It  rolled  from  the  log,  and  a  shot 
was  sent  after  the  hindmost  of  the  other  two,  which 
immediately  sank  down.  The  old  nanny  was  over 
two  hundred  yards  away  by  this  time  and  was  nearing 
the  top  of  the  ridge,  but  as  the  gun  cracked  she  tot- 
tered and  fell.  Four  goats  now  lay  dead  in  a  straight 
line  up  the  hill,  killed  with  four  shots.  Dyche  could 
not  restrain  his  enthusiasm,  and  bounded  up  the  hill 
while  the  mountains  echoed  with  his  shouts. 

An  examination  showed  that  four  more  fortunate 
shots  could  not  have  been  made.  The  first  went 
through  the  shoulder,  the  second  through  the  liver, 
the  third  went  high,  striking  in  the  hip  and  ranging 
forwards  under  the  ear,  while  the  fourth  also  went 
high,  through  the  shoulder  and  ranged  forwards.  It 
was  now  half -past  three,  and  by  hard  work  the  entire 
load  of  skins  was  taken  to  camp  by  half-past  eight. 
After  supper  was  over  and  his  shins  and  knees  were 
well  rubbed  with  vaseline,  the  naturalist  sat  up  until 
midnight  dressing  the  skins.  Next  day,  while  going 
for  the  bones,  a  fine  mule  buck  was  killed,  which  sup- 
plied the  camp  with  meat.  Three  or  four  days  were 
spent  in  getting  the  specimens  to  camp  and  in  caring 
for  the  skins  and  bones  properly,  and  then  another 
hunt  was  taken  over  the  grounds,  which  were  now 
becoming  familiar  to  the  hunter. 


RAPIDLY  DISAPPEARING  TRIBE.  195 

An  early  start  placed  Dyche  on  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain by  nine  o'clock,  and  a  magnificent  spectacle  was 
presented  to  his  view.  The  heavy  snow  extended 
down  in  irregular  tongues  of  white  to  the  velvety 
green  of  the  trees  below.  Lower  down  the  frost- 
touched  quaking  asps  gave  a  glorious  colouring  to 
the  scene  with  their  leaves  of  green  and  gold,  just  in 
front  of  the  sombre  background  of  burnt  forest  on 
the  opposite  slope  of  the  mountain.  The  clouds  had 
passed  away  and  the  sun  shone  with  unwonted  brill- 
iancy, while  the  pure  and  invigourating  air  gave 
life  to  everything.  This  was  the  home  of  the  Rocky 
Mountain  goat.  Here  he  lives,  away  from  all  other 
animated  nature,  and  here  he  should  roam  for 
ages  to  come.  He  has  chosen  for  his  home  the  land 
where  rugged  crags  and  peaks  stand  as  an  almost  in- 
surmountable barrier  against  other  animals  and  even 
man  is  kept  aloof.  The  sparse  grass  and  such  shoots 
as  he  feeds  on  are  out  of  reach  of  other  ruminant  ani- 
mals, while  the  bleak  and  dreary  mountains  offer  no 
enticement  to  the  carnivora.  He  is  harmless  and  is  al- 
most worthless  as  far  as  food  is  concerned ;  his  skin  is 
so  tender  that  it  is  valueless  for  commercial  purposes. 
All  these  facts  being  taken  into  consideration,  the 
natural  supposition  would  be  that  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain goat  would  increase  and  become  common  on  all 
the  high  and  bleak  mountains.  But  such  does  not 
seem  to  be  the  case. 

The  goat,  at  one  time,  is  said  to  have  roamed  the 
high  mountain-tops  of  the  Rockies  and  Cascades 
from  Northern  Colorado  to  Alaska,  but  now  he  is 
found  only  in  the  most  inaccessible  places  of  the  far 


196  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

northern  mountains.  This  range  never  exceeded 
four  hundred  miles  in  width,  and  it  is  doubtful  if 
the  southern  limit  ever  reached  Northern  Colorado. 
Hunters  tell  of  the  goats  which  they  have  seen  in 
Northern  Colorado,  but  it  is  probable  that  they  have 
mistaken  bands  of  female  sheep  for  goats,  which 
they  greatly  resemble  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year. 
It  is  certain  that  the  animal  abounds  in  parts  of 
British  Columbia,  but  its  capture  is  attended  with  so 
much  hardship  that  it  is  rarely  sought  for  except  by 
those  naturalists  who  are  something  more  than  room- 
workers.  The  goat  will  be  found  for  years  by  those 
who  are  hardy  enough  to  search  for  him,  but  there 
will  be  few  killed. 

It  was  while  such  thoughts  as  these  were  passing 
through  the  mind  of  Dyche  that  he  saw  a  goat  walk- 
ing on  a  ridge  about  half  a  mile  away.  The  animal 
went  to  the  point  of  a  stony  crag,  from  which  it 
viewed  the  country  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  It 
was  so  far  away  and  the  country  was  so  rough  be- 
tween him  and  the  animal  that  the  naturalist  was 
in  some  doubt  as  to  the  best  mode  of  procedure.  The 
goat  solved  the  question  by  descending  into  one  of 
the  stony  canons,  and  as  soon  as  it  disappeared  from 
view  Dyche  began  to  stalk  it.  The  goat  came  out 
on  another  crag  and  looked  around.  It  appeared 
uneasy,  and  the  hunter  feared  that  it  had  winded 
him.  From  this  crag  the  goat  descended  to  a  still 
lower  one,  and  thence  on  down,  until  at  last  it  ap- 
peared at  a  distance  of  about  three  hundred  yards. 

Turning  to  the  right  the  goat  began  ascending  a 
ridge,    and   calculating   that   its    next     appearance 


DESCRIPTION  AND  HABITS.  197 

would  be  on  a  certain  stony  crag,  Dyche  ran  towards 
this  at  full  speed,  dropping  down  behind  a  clump  of 
spruce  trees  just  as  he  thought  the  animal  would 
come  out.  He  waited  about  two  minutes,  and  the 
goat  walked  out  on  a  ledge  opposite  to  the  natural- 
ist. The  goat  made  a  beautiful  picture  with  his 
almost  white  body  outlined  against  the  gray  granite 
of  the  mountain,  not  over  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  yards  away.  He  was  across  a  canon,  which 
was  always  an  objection  with  Dyche ;  but  a  steady 
rest  across  a  rock  gave  a  good  aim,  and  the  ball  sped 
to  the  white  spot  on  the  animal's  breast. 

The  goat  staggered  forwards  and  tumbled  over  the 
cliff,  rolling  to  the  bottom  of  the  precipice,  out  of 
sight.  Hastening  down,  the  naturalist  found  a  fine 
specimen.  It  was  not  so  large  as  the  first  one  killed, 
but  it  was  in  much  better  condition  as  to  hair  and 
colour.  It  was  the  whitest  male  that  he  had  killed. 
The  colour  of  the  goats  is  usually  described  as  white, 
but  the  hair  has  a  yellowish  tinge.  Many  of  them 
have  a  very  dirty  appearance,  for  the  long  hair  is  filled 
with  spruce  needles,  cone  scales,  dirt,  and  even  little 
stones,  which  they  accumulate  as  they  rub  in  the 
dirt.  Young  kids  have  a  streak  of  brown  hair 
running  down  the  back  and  brown  hairs  scattered 
all  over  the  body.  Yearlings  show  some  of  these 
brown  hairs,  but  as  the  animal  grows  older  they  al- 
most entirely  disappear.  A  thick  coat  of  under  hair, 
or  wool,  is  always  present.  In  August  the  skins 
show  a  splendid  short  growth  of  this,  as  then  the 
long  hair  is  thin,  most  of  it  having  been  shed.  The 
long,   coarse    hair  of   the  goat    gives  to  it  the  ap- 


198  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

pearance  of  a  small  albino  buffalo,  except  that  the 
buffalo  has  long  hair  on  the  fore-legs  and  shoulders 
only,  while  that  of  the  goat  is  long  all  over  the  body 
with  the  exception  of  the  lower  parts  of  the  legs  and 
upper  part  of  the  face. 

The  horns  of  this  specimen  were  finely  shaped  and 
without  blemish.  All  goats  have  horns,  those  of  the 
old  males  reaching  six  inches  in  circumference,  while 
those  of  the  females  are  but  slightly  smaller.  The 
horns  stand  well  up,  curving  backwards  and  slightly 
outwards.  Behind  them  are  the  musk-glands,  which 
on  the  old  males  stand  up  two  inches  and  are  so 
strongly  impregnated  with  musk  that  they  taint  the 
whole  body,  making  the  flesh  unfit  for  food.  Near 
the  horn  these  glands  are  bare  and  scaly,  but  away 
from  this  part  they  are'  covered  with  hair.  When 
cut  open  they  show  a  pink  colour  and  give  out  a 
strong  musky  odour. 

The  goat's  nose  is  covered  with  short  hair  to  the 
tip,  with  the  exception  of  a  narrow  median  streak 
between  the  nostrils.  The  eyes  are  straw  colour  in 
the  living  animal,  but  turn  to  a  dark  chestnut  a  short 
time  after  death.  Under  the  throat  the  coarse  hair 
hangs  in  a  beard  similar  to  that  of  the  common  goat. 
The  hair  on  the  legs  is  long,  as  well  as  that  on  the 
hump  between  the  shoulders.  This  hump  is  one  of 
the  peculiarities  which  has  long  puzzled  naturalists 
who  have  not  taken  the  trouble  to  see  the  animal  in 
his  native  haunts.  It  is  simply  a  lengthening  of  the 
spinous  processes  of  the  dorsal  vertebrae.  The  tail  is 
very  short  and  the  ears  small  and  pointed.  The  lat- 
ter are  evidently  of  little  use  to  the  animal  so  far  as 


A  PERSISTENT  HUNTER.  199 

hearing  is  concerned,  for  in  every  goat  that  was  killed 
on  this  trip  the  ears  were  so  filled  with  ticks  that  the 
insects  formed  a  compact  plug  which  it  was  necessary 
to  force  out  with  a  hard  stick  when  cleaning  the  skins. 
The  feet  are  almost  square  and  the  outside  rim  of 
the  hoof  is  sharp,  making  a/knife-edge  which  enables 
the  animal  to  grasp  any  crack  or  opening  and  thus 
obtain  a  firm  foot-hold. 

The  most  common  error  of  naturalists  who  have 
never  seen  either  a  living  or  dead  Rocky  Mountain 
goat  is  in  regard  to  the  position  of  the  head.  In  nearly 
all  the  cuts  of  the  animal  in  books  or  magazines  the 
head  is  raised  above  the  line  of  the  shoulder.  The 
anatomical  structure  of  the  animal  clearly  precludes 
this.  The  neck  is  short  and  set  so  low  down  that  the 
head  cannot  be  raised  above  a  line  even  with  the  top 
of  the  shoulder.  Taken  as  a  whole,  the  proportions 
of  the  goat  are  similar  to  those  of  an  American  bison, 
or  buffalo,  on  a  small  scale. 

The  specimen  was  skinned  and  the  skeleton  laid 
bare,  and  then  the  naturalist  attempted  to  carry  the 
whole  load  of  skin  and  bones  to  camp.  The  load  was  a 
heavy,  awkward  bundle,  but  he  made  his  way  along, 
and  by  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  reached  a  point 
on  the  mountain  above  the  camp.  He  was  tempted  to 
leave  his  burden  here  and  return  for  it  next  day,  but 
the  thought  that  it  meant  a  whole  day  lost  caused  him 
to  stagger  on,  and  he  finally  reached  camp  long  after 
dark.  He  found  that  there  was  not  much  in  a  load 
of  bones  and  skins  to  arouse  any  but  a  scientific  en- 
thusiasm, and  he  spent  several  hours  after  supper  in 

dressing  the  skins  and  rubbing  his  legs  with  vase- 
14 


200  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

line.  Next  day  was  Saturday,  and  he  remained  in 
camp  looking  after  the  specimens  and  fighting  mag- 
pies. 

Provisions  were  now  very  short,  and  the  place  was 
becoming  more  dangerous  with  each  succeeding 
day.  The  guide  was  eager  to  hurry  away,  but 
Dyche  could  not  leave  until  he  secured  more  spec- 
imens. Several  days  were  spent  on  the  mountains 
without  success,  and  the  naturalist  was  almost  ready 
to  listen  to  the  advice  of  his  companion.  One  morn- 
ing after  several  hours'  fruitless  hunting  Dyche  was 
crawling  carefully  along  a  ridge,  when  he  saw  a 
goat  lying  down  on  the  point  of  a  ledge.  When 
within  seventy-five  yards  a  shot  was  sent  after  the 
animal,  which  staggered  to  its  feet  and  then  pitched 
forwards  and  rolled  over  the  rocks  down  the  moun- 
tain. The  hunter  hurried  to  the  spot,  but  could  find 
no  trace  of  his  prize.  After  searching  for  some  time 
he  at  last  descried  the  dead  animal  lodged  on  a  little 
shelf  about  a  hundred  yards  below  the  spot  where 
he  had  shot  it.  For  two  hours  he  tried  in  vain 
to  get  to  the  animal,  but  he  was  finally  compelled  to 
give  it  up.  It  was  a  great  loss,  as  it  was  a  fine  young 
male  and  was  needed  to  complete  the  series. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  another  goat  was 
seen.  He  was  standing  on  a  crag  above  the  hunter, 
looking  down.  Like  all  goats,  it  did  not  appear  to 
apprehend  danger  from  above.  A  shot  through  the 
shoulders  sent  the  animal  to  earth,  and  it  was  after 
dark  when  Dyche  reached  camp  with  the  skin  and 
skeleton. 

Next  day  while  hunting  along  the  mountain  a  bear- 


A  PERSISTENT  HUNTER.  201 

trail  was  seen  and  Dyche  started  to  follow  it.  The 
bear  had  picked  out  a  good  trail  and  travelling  was 
easy.  While  hurrying  along  the  hunter  caught  sight 
of  a  goat  standing  on  a  crag  above  him.  It  was  ap- 
parently looking  directly  at  him,  and  Dyche  feared 
that  he  had  been  seen.  Working  his  way  out  of 
sight  he  tried  to  get  above  the  goat.  He  climbed  to 
within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain and  there  found  that  farther  progress  was  effect- 
ually barred.  Retracing  his  steps,  he  finally  found 
a  way  up  and  reached  the  top.  With  feet  and  legs 
soaking  wet  from  the  damp  snow,  he  found  him- 
self on  the  crag  where  the  goat  had  been  stand- 
ing, but  the  animal  was  nowhere  in  sight.  The 
naturalist  sat  down  to  rest  and  eat  his  lunch,  and 
while  doing  this  he  noticed  the  goat  standing  on 
the  point  of  a  crag  below  him.  Working  care- 
fully, he  began  to  descend.  A  point  about  two 
hundred  yards  above  the  animal  was  reached,  and 
then  a  careful  stalk  was  begun  to  get  closer,  for  the 
snow  was  falling  too  heavily  to  risk  a  shot  at  that 
distance.  Crawling  down  to  within  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  yards,  a  shot  was  directed  down  at 
a  point  between  the  goat's  shoulders.  It  did  not 
move,  and  Dyche  feared  that  his  shot  had  been  a 
clean  miss.  Hastily  slipping  another  cartridge  in 
the  barrel,  he  was  just  about  to  fire  when  he 
noticed  a  red  stream  running  down  the  shoulder. 
The  animal  began  staggering,  and  fearing  that 
it  would  pitch  forwards  over  the  cliff,  the  hunter 
sent  another  shot  at  it,  trying  to  break  its  back,  so 
that  it  would  sink  in  its  tracks.     This  effort,  how- 


203  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

ever,  was  a  failure,  for  the  goat  pitched  heavily  for- 
wards and  rolled  down  the  mountain.  Making  his 
way  down,  the  naturalist  found  that  he  had  killed 
a  large  dry  ewe,  one  of  the  finest  specimens  that  he 
had  obtained.  It  was  in  perfect  condition  and  was 
fully  as  large  as  an  ordinary  male. 

Two  more  days  were  spent  in  the  mountains  in 
unsuccessful  hunting.  The  horses  were  running 
down  in  flesh  so  rapidly  and  provisions  were  so  low 
that  the  necessity  of  leaving  became  at  last  deeply 
impressed  on  the  mind  of  the  naturalist,  and  arrange- 
ments were  made  to  start.  But  Dyche  was  deter- 
mined to  have  one  more  hunt.  He  started  before 
daylight  for  the  mountains,  in  a  heavy  snow-storm. 
Finding  a  bear-trail,  he  followed  this  some  distance, 
when  it  was  crossed  by  a  goat-track.  Experience 
had  long  since  taught  him  the  futility  of  follow- 
ing a  bear-track,  so  he  turned  his  attention  to  that 
of  the  goat.  He  followed  it  for  about  half  a  mile, 
when  the  animal  was  seen  going  down  a  ridge.  The 
goat  saw  the  hunter  at  about  the  same  time  and 
started  at  full  speed  over  the  rocks.  Dyche  followed 
the  trail  in  the  snow,  hiding  as  much  as  possible, 
and  at  last  saw  the  animal  standing  on  a  project- 
ing point,  looking  back.  After  long  and  circuitous 
stalking  it  was  found  that  the  goat  had  hurried  on 
up  the  mountain.  The  track  was  again  followed 
until  it  entered  a  piece  of  timber.  Here  another 
circuit  was  made  and  tracks  of  bears,  wolverines, 
and  Ijmxes  were  seen,  but  the  goat  had  not  left  the 
woods.  Dyche  began  circling  around  the  mountain, 
watching  carefully.     "While  creeping  along  in  the 


A  PERSISTENT  HUNTER.  203 

timber  the  hunter  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  quarry- 
just  as  it  was  disappearing  among  the  trees. 
A  quick  shot  was  sent  after  it  and  then  it  was  lost 
to  view.  Hastening  to  the  spot,  he  found  the 
tracks  and  soon  saw  spots  of  blood.  Following 
these  about  three  hundred  yards  he  came  upon  'the 
animal,  lying  down.  Its  expression  was  any- 
thing but  mild,  and  to  avoid  accidents  the  hunter 
sent  another  ball  into  it,  killing  it  instantly.  It 
was  a  fine  two-year-old  male  and  was  just  what 
was  needed  to  complete  the  collection.  It  was  now 
raining  hard,  and  after  two  hours  spent  in  taking 
notes  and  measurements  and  skinning  the  animal, 
Dyche  threw  the  skin  across  his  shoulders  as  a  pro- 
tection from  the  rain  and  started  for  camp.  It  was 
almost  dark  and  the  distance  was  long,  but  the  hunters 
were  to  move  the  next  day  and  it  would  not  do  to  leave 
the  specimen  on  the  mountain.  He  staggered  along 
and  finally  reached  camp  with  his  precious  load. 
His  knees  were  in  a  fearful  condition,  but  he  rubbed 
them  until  they  felt  better,  and  then  spent  several 
hours  preparing  his  specimens  for  packing. 

The  horses  had  had  a  long  rest,  but  were  in  bad 
condition  from  lack  of  proper  food,  and  it  was  a  hard 
trip  over  the  mountains  to  Thorp's  ranch,  which  was 
finally  reached  with  as  fine  a  lot  of  specimens  as  was 
ever  carried  out  of  the  country. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

On  Kettle  River — Two  Model  Camp  Companions — A  Royal 
Deer — Eating  Beaver  Tails — A  Tramp  over  the  Moun- 
tains— Wolves  about  the  Cabin — Varieties  of  Deer. 

IHREE  days  were  spent  at  Thorp's  ranch, 
recuperating  from  the  hardships  of  the 
goat-hunt.  Specimens  were  stored  and 
packed,  and  then  arrangements  were 
made  with  Maurice  Farrell  and  George  McLaughlin 
for  a  second  trip  up  Kettle  River.  These  men  were 
old  mountaineers  and  knew  every  foot  of  the  country 
for  many  miles  around.  They  were  sure  they  could 
take  Dyche  to  where  he  could  find  caribou.  They  had 
spent  the  previous  winter  at  the  cabin  mentioned  in 
a  former  chapter,  which  they  had  built,  and  they  had 
brought  out  with  them  in  the  spring  over  a  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  furs.  They  had  frequently  seen 
caribou  near  the  cabin,  and  Indians  had  told  them 
that  they  were  abundant  on  the  mountains  above. 

These  stories  made  Dyche  believe  that  he  could 
accomplish  the  entire  object  of  his  trip  to  this  country. 
The  start  was  made  with  a  string  of  a  dozen  pack- 
horses.  McLaughlin's  readiness  in  finding  a  trail 
through  the  mountains  and  forests  had  earned  for 
him  the  title  of  Pathfinder,  while  Farrell  was  con- 
sidered the  best    campman    in   the  whole  country, 

204 


Off  for  a  long  tramp. 


TWO  MODEL  CAMP  COMPANIONS.  205 

his  especial  forte  being  the  preparation  of  a  meal. 
He  demonstrated  on  this  trip  that  he  fully  under- 
stood the  art  of  camp-cooking.  Pancakes  were 
his  specialty,  and  these  were  cooked  in  a  style 
that  would  put  many  famous  chefs  to  shame. 
With  a  frying-pan  in  each  hand,  he  would  keep  them 
turning  and  twisting  with  a  simple  movement  of  the 
wrist  until  the  cake  would  turn  over  with  a  precision 
that  caused  each  part  to  be  perfectly  cooked.  Nor 
was  anything  else  neglected  while  this  was  being 
done,  for  the  trout  or  venison  steak  was  cooked  to  a 
turn,  and  the  coffee  and  biscuits  were  never  known 
to  be  amiss. 

The  first  camp  was  made  at  Wannacut  Lake,  and 
while  the  Pathfinder  and  the  naturalist  unpacked  the 
horses  and  arranged  the  camp,  Farrell  prepared  sup- 
per, the  first  regular  meal  of  the  expedition.  Fried 
ham,  boiled  potatoes,  fruit,  pancakes,  and  coffee  were 
soon  ready,  and  the  signal  which  was  always  used  on 
this  trip  was  given  ; 

"Square  yourselves  for  action,  boys." 

They  "  squared  themselves, "  and  the  principal  com- 
ment was  that  they  wanted  more.  The  alkali  water 
of  the  lake  so  embittered  the  coffee  and  pancakes  that 
it  was  hard  to  swallow  them,  but  they  managed  to 
make  a  good  meal.  The  village  of  Wannacut  was 
about  a  mile  from  camp,  and  after  supper  Farrell 
went  there  with  a  bucket  for  water  with  which  to 
cook  breakfast. 

The  horses  had  a  good  supplj^  of  water  and  grass  at 
Rock  Creek,  and  next  day  at  two  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon  Kettle  River  was  reached.     Here  Farrell  and 


206  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

Dyche  left  the  outfit  and  went  to  a  Chinese  settle- 
ment and  purchased  eighty  pounds  of  "spuds,"  or 
potatoes.  These  were  placed  in  two  bags  which  they 
carried  in  front  of  them  on  the  saddles,  and  then  it 
took  all  the  rest  of  the  day  to  catch  up  with  the  Path- 
finder, who  had  gone  ahead  with  the  train.  On  the 
way  "  Kettle  River  Armstrong"  was  met,  a  ranch- 
man who  devoted  his  attention  to  raising  horses  on 
a  ranch  on  the  middle  fork  of  the  river.  Armstrong 
said  that  caribou  were  thick  about  his  ranch.  He 
had  seen  where  four  had  passed  by  a  few  days  be- 
fore. He  tried  to  induce  the  hunters  to  go  to  his 
ranch,  but  they  decided  to  follow  their  original  plans. 
Their  route  lay  into  the  wilderness  described  in  a 
previous  chapter,  and  at  the  forks  of  the  river 
McLaughlin  had  made  camp  and  was  awaiting  them. 

A  heavy  rain  fell  next  day  as  they  prepared  to 
start,  but  no  one  seemed  to  think  any  the  worse  of 
the  weather,  and  jokes  were  flying  thick  and  fast  as 
the  trail  was  taken.  A  deer  became  too  curious  and 
his  venison  swelled  the  larder.  Camp  was  made 
that  evening  in  the  forest,  and  while  Dyche  and 
McLaughlin  were  attending  to  the  horses,  Farrell 
was  preparing  a  supper  fit  for  the  gods.  Farrell 
compelled  the  others  to  strictly  observe  one  thing,  and 
that  was  that  they  should  not  come  "putterin' 
around  the  fire. "  They  willingly  acceded  to  this  de- 
mand, and  only  when  the  cry  of  "  Square  yourselves 
for  action"  was  given  did  they  venture  near. 

Another  day  of  travel  took  them  to  the  cabin,  and 
here  the  two  men  were  at  home.  Sitting  around  the 
fire  they  related  enough  of  their  experiences  to  fill 


TWO  MODEL  CAMP  COMPANIONS.  307 

scores  of  books  of  adventure  and  hunting.  They 
told  how  they  had  secured  thousands  of  dollars'  worth 
*  of  furs  with  their  traps  and  guns,  how  fifty  beaver 
and  numerous  wolverines,  lynxes,  otters,  fishers,  mar- 
tens, wolves,  and  other  animals  which  came  their  way 
had  been  captured.  They  told  of  the  gaunt,  black 
timber-wolves  which  roamed  in  great  bands  through 
the  trackless  forests  and  destroyed  many  deer ;  how  it 
was  almost  impossible  to  trap  or  poison  them,  for 
they  were  too  shrewd  to  eat  poisoned  meat  or  go 
near  a  trap ;  how  a  pack  of  the  big  hungry  brutes 
would  kill  and  eat  a  deer  and  leave  no  vestige  of  it 
except  a  few  scattered  hairs  on  the  snow.  The  very 
bones  would  be  crunched  and  swallowed  by  the  rav- 
enous beasts. 

McLaughlin  showed  where  he  had  stood  and  seen 
a  fine  buck  dash  from  the  forest  and  run  directly 
towards  him,  its  tongue  hanging  out  as  it  panted 
from  the  great  exertion.  The  presence  of  man  did 
not  frighten  it,  for  it  was  fleeing  from  a  more  deadly 
enemy.  As  it  passed  on  a  pack  of  howling  wolves 
burst  from  the  woods  on  its  trail,  and  it  was  not  un- 
til three  of  them  fell  before  the  balls  from  the  trap- 
per's Winchester  that  the  ferocious  brutes  turned 
back  into  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

McLaughlin  told  of  that  mysterious  animal,  the 
wolverine,  which  the  Indians  have  so  aptly  named 
the  "  mountain  devil ; "  how  the  trap  must  be  fast- 
ened to  swinging  poles  or  the  animal  will  carry 
it  away.  Even  when  the  trap  is  chained  to  a  pole  the 
wolverine  sometimes  climbs  the  chain  and  gnaws 
the  pole  through,  carrying  off  the  whole  load.     One 


208  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

got  away  with  a  small  trap,  and  two  weeks  later 
his  fresh  trail  was  seen  in  the  snow  and  the  trap  was 
still  dragging  behind  him.  Another  carried  off 
a  larger  trap  a  few  days  later,  and  then  the  Path- 
finder concluded  it  was  time  to  do  something  to  pre- 
vent the  wolverines  from  "  setting  a  line  of  traps," 
and  he  took  a  pair  of  blankets  and  two  days'  provis- 
ions and  started  on  the  trail.  He  travelled  fifty  or 
sixty  miles,  but  failed  to  catch  the  robber. 

Two  days  were  spent  at  the  old  cabin,  and  Dyche 
was  well  pleased  with  the  energy  displayed  by  his 
new  companions.  McLaughlin  went  four  or  five 
miles  up  the  river  hunting  for  a  new  camping-place, 
and  seeing  a  fine  mule  buck  standing  in  a  suitable 
place  he  killed  it,  "just  to  mark  the  spot."  It  was 
snowing  heavily  next  morning  when  he  and  Dyche 
started  out  to  see  what  was  in  the  country.  The 
trappers  had  told  the  naturalist  of  a  big  buck  which 
they  had  seen  here  several  times,  but  the  animal 
was  so  wary  that  they  had  never  been  able  to  get 
within  gunshot  of  it.  Their  description  made  him  a 
veritable  giant.  The  dense  woods  had  great  fasci- 
nation for  the  naturalist,  for  here  he  felt  that  he  might 
find  new  animals  at  almost  any  moment.  In  three 
hours  he  reached  the  top  of  the  mountain  and  there 
found  numerous  tracks  of  bears,  wolverines,  fishers, 
and  deer.  Many  deer  were  to  be  seen  standing  about 
in  the  woods,  and  now  and  then  they  would  move 
away  with  long,  graceful  strides  for  a  few  hundred 
yards,  and  then  stand  and  gaze  at  the  intruder  with 
a  "  wonder  what  you  are?  "  stare. 

As  the  hunter  approached  the  edge  of  the  woods  he 


A  ROYAL  DEER.  209 

saw  about  a  dozen  deer  standing  on  a  ridge.  When 
they  moved  away  Dyche  caught  sight  of  an  enor- 
mous buck  which  led  the  band.  He  stood  a  full  head 
and  shoulders  above  the  rest,  and  at  once  the  natu- 
ralist thought  of  the  big  buck  of  which  McLaughlin 
had  spoken.  Attempting  a  stalk,  he  soon  found  that 
the  animals  were  too  wary.  He  did  not  like  to  be 
outwitted,  and  started  back  on  his  trail  until  he  was 
well  out  of  sight,  when  he  began  a  wide  detour  in 
order  to  get  ahead  of  the  band.  After  travelling 
over  a  mile  he  reached  a  spot  where  he  thought 
he  was  ahead  of  the  deer.  While  moving  quietly 
through  the  woods  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  band  of 
deer  in  front  of  him.  As  they  were  looking  directly 
at  him  he  stopped.  Just  then  the  big  buck  came 
stepping  proudly  from  the  timber,  gazing  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  hunter.  As  he  stood  with  head  erect 
he  made  a  magnificent  picture,  but  the  naturalist  lost 
no  time  looking  at  it.  He  sent  a  bullet  through  the 
animal's  breast  and  it  dropped  at  the  crack  of  the  gun. 
This  was  a  fine  specimen,  the  largest  deer  that 
Dyche  had  ever  seen.  There  was  not  an  ounce  of 
fat  on  him.  If  he  had  been  in  the  condition  that 
he  undoubtedly  was  earlier  in  the  year  he  would  have 
appeared  as  large  as  an  elk.  The  measurements  were 
taken  carefully  and  they  were  something  wonderful 
for  a  deer.  His  standing  height  was  forty-four 
inches  from  the  top  of  his  back  to  the  flat  of  his  hoof. 
The  circumference  of  the  body  behind  the  forelegs 
was  fifty-one  inches ;  that  of  the  abdomen  was  fifty- 
five  inches.  The  skin,  skull,  and  leg  bones  weighed 
forty  pounds,  and  the  naturalist  carried  the  load  four 


310  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

or  five  miles  to  camp,  only  to  receive  the  severe  cen- 
sure of  Farrell  for  making  a  pack-horse  of  himself 
when  there  were  so  many  "  cayuses  "  standing  around. 

McLaughlin  was  out  three  days,  and  when  he  re- 
turned he  reported  a  few  signs  of  caribou.  One  or 
two  of  them  had  been  feeding  on  the  bunches  of 
black  moss  which  hung  from  the  trees  at  a  place 
about  ten  miles  from  camp.  The  trail  was  taken  in 
that  direction,  and  after  a  hard  day's  travel  a  little 
meadow  was  reached  during  a  driving  snow-storm. 
Camp  was  made  under  difficulties,  and  it  was  some 
time  before  a  big  log  fire  made  the  hunters  com- 
fortable. "With  a  bright  fire,  hot  supper,  and  many 
good  stories,  they  were  soon  laughing  and  joking  as 
if  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  snow-storm.  As  the 
night  deepened  a  pack  of  timber- wolves  made  their  ap- 
pearance and  serenaded  the  new-comers.  In  the  deep 
stillness  of  the  forest  these  weird  howls  brought  many 
tales  of  danger  to  the  minds  of  the  campers,  but  they 
were  not  of  a  mould  to  be  scared  at  snarling  wolves 
and  all  were  soon  fast  asleep. 

Several  days  were  now  spent  in  exploring  the  coun- 
try, which  was  found  to  be  an  immense  jungle,  and 
then  Dyche  and  Farrell  made  an  effort  to  reach  the 
mountains  on  the  east.  From  this  place  could  be 
seen  a  great  wilderness  of  trees,  but  off  to  the  north- 
east appeared  the  shimmering  water  of  several  lakes. 
The  bald  mountain  to  which  Dyche  had  travelled  on 
foot  several  weeks  before  reared  its  snow-covered 
head  above  all  the  others.  After  long  consultation 
that  night  Farrell  and  McLaughlin  determined  to 
cross  the  range  and  go  down  the  middle  fork  of  the 


EATING  BEAVER   TAILS.  211 

river  to  a  point  about  fifty  miles  above  Armstrong's 
ranch.  The  party  at  once  set  about  to  find  a  way 
out  of  the  cafion,  and  after  a  whole  day's  chopping  a 
path  was  cleared.  Meanwhile  Farrell  had  set  a  lot 
of  beaver-traps  and  caught  two  fine  animals.  The 
tails  and  hams,  cooked  with  beans  and  pork  stew, 
made  a  most  palatable  dish  for  the  hungry  hunters. 
The  tail  was  considered  a  great  luxury. 

The  trip  over  the  range  next  day  was  enlivened  by 
Dyche's  horse,  Chief,  which  suddenly  ran  away 
and  bucked  off  the  pack  of  cooking  utensils.  The 
outfit  was  scattered  over  the  mountain  and  Farrell 
took  the  affair  as  an  especial  insult  to  himself.  After 
indulging  in  very  strong  mountain  language  about 
the  horse,  he  offered  to  present  the  naturalist  with  a 
good  one  if  he  would  give  the  runaway  a  ball  from  his 
Winchester.  Hard  work  was  the  rule  next  day,  and 
evening  found  them  still  on  the  side  of  the  mountain. 
McLaughlin's  great  exertion  with  the  axe  and  his 
abstinence  from  food  during  the  day  now  had  a 
bad  effect,  and  he  was  suddenly  attacked  by  cramps 
and  he  rolled  on  the  ground  groaning  in  pain.  Dyche 
and  Farrell  ministered  to  his  trouble  as  best  they 
could,  and  by  dint  of  rubbing  at  last  succeeded  in  re- 
lieving him  so  that  he  felt  able  to  travel.  Before 
grass  and  water  was  reached,  however,  the  cramps 
returned  with  increased  severity  and  they  were  com- 
pelled to  camp  in  the  big  woods.  A  fire  was  made 
and  the  sick  man  rolled  up  in  a  bundle  of  blankets 
and  warmed,  but  he  suffered  intensely,  and  it  was 
only  after  long  and  vigorous  rubbing  that  he  became 
easier.     Farrell  found  that  they  were  within  two  hun- 


213  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

dred  yards  of  the  river  and  water  was  soon  secured 
for  camp  use. 

Next  morning  the  Pathfinder  crawled  out  and  went 
to  work  despite  the  advice  of  his  companions.  They 
were  now  in  a  magnificent  forest.  Trees  as  straight 
as  the  masts  of  a  ship  rose  from  one  hundred  to  two 
hundred  feet  in  the  air,  with  tops  so  matted  together 
that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  see  daylight  through 
them.  It  was  decided  to  go  up  the  river,  but  six 
miles'  travelling  in  this  direction  convinced  them  that 
they  could  do  nothing  there  and  they  retraced  their 
steps.  There  was  little  sign  of  large  game.  A  pe- 
culiar willowy  bush  grew  from  the  ground  to  a  height 
of  three  or  four  feet  and  then  the  tops  bent  over  and 
again  took  root,  making  an  almost  impassable  un- 
derbrush. 

Armstrong's  horse  ranch  was  the  next  objective 
point.  On  the  second  evening  Farrell  went  out  to 
get  some  fresh  meat.     Soon  a  shot  was  heard. 

"That  means  fresh  meat  for  supper,"  said  Mc- 
Laughlin. 

As  he  spoke  another  and  then  a  third  shot  rang 
out. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  it  now,"  was  the  comment. 

Then  followed  several  shots  in  quick  succession. 

"  That  much  shooting  means  nothing,  or  maybe  a 
fawn,"  was  the  remark.  That  he  well  understood 
his  partner  was  shown  when  Farrell  came  into  camp 
a  short  time  after  carrying  a  fawn  across  his  shoul- 
ders. The  joke  was  on  Farrell,  but  next  morning 
he  went  out  and  found  two  bucks  that  he  had  killed 
the  night  before. 


TRAMP  OVER  THE  MOUNTAINS,  2iB 

Next  day  Armstrong's  ranch  was  reached  in  a 
blinding  snow-storm.  An  abundance  of  grass  gave 
the  horses  good  food  and  they  were  turned  loose 
to  shift  for  themselves.  The  first  day  was  spent  in 
building  a  tent  made  of  poles  and  spruce  boughs, 
called  in  that  country  a  rancheree.  A  few  days  were 
now  spent  in  prospecting  in  every  direction.  Many 
deer  were  seen  daily  near  the  rancheree,  but  there 
were  no  signs  of  caribou.  Each  night  Armstrong 
came  over  from  his  ranch,  about  a  hundred  yards 
away,  and  the  mountaineers  told  stories  of  their  life 
while  Dyche  cleaned  and  prepared  his  specimens. 

The  Pathfinder  now  began  to  show  great  signs  of 
uneasiness .  He  had  been  told  that  there  was  plenty  of 
big  game  in  these  woods,  including  caribou,  but  he" 
had  so  far  failed  to  find  anything  but  a  number  of 
deer,  which  were  too  common  to  shoot.  He  felt  that 
something  must  be  done,  and  one  evening,  after  sit- 
ting brooding  awhile  over  the  fire,  he  stretched  him- 
self, yawned,  and  then  said : 

"  I'm  going  to  find  caribou  or  be  satisfied  there's 
none  in  the  country.  To-morrow  I'll  leave  you  for 
that  big  mountain  over  there,  and  I'll  see  what's  be- 
come of  all  the  animals  of  this  neck  of  the  woods." 

"  How  will  you  go?"  asked  Dyche,  who  at  once  be- 
came interested  in  the  new  turn  which  things  were 
taking. 

"  Walk,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

"I'm  with  you."  So  it  was  settled  that  a  long 
tramp  of  thirty  or  forty  miles  should  be  taken  over 
the  snow-covered  mountains,  and  preparations  were 
at  once  begun.      Two    pair  of  blankets  with   pro- 


214  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

visions  sufficient  to  make  a  load  of  about  forty 
pounds  were  put  into  a  pack  for  each,  and  the  start 
was  made  early  next  morning.  Finally  the  moun- 
tain-side was  reached  and  the  long  and  steady  pull 
began.  A  small  frying-pan  and  a  coffee-pot  hung 
to  the  packs,  and  at  noon  a  halt  was  made  to  get  a 
cup  of  tea  and  something  to  eat.  At  half -past  three 
the  Pathfinder  called  out : 

"  Here's  the  place  for  us.     We'll  camp." 

Three  huge  dead  trees  had  fallen  across  each  other 
beside  a  broken  stump  about  twenty  feet  high.  The 
ground  was  cleared  of  snow  and  fires  were  started 
to  dry  the  earth.  Soon  the  hunters  were  enjoy- 
ing a  supper  of  venison  steaks,  biscuit,  and  coffee. 
At  eight  o'clock  both  were  asleep,  and  by  four 
next  morning  they  were  again  on  their  way  up 
the  mountain.  Two  more  days  of  travelling  through 
the  dense  underbrush,  with  snow  eighteen  inches 
deep,  took  them  to  timber-line,  and  the  bald  top  of 
the  mountain  rose  before  them.  The  snow  was  badly 
drifted  and  it  was  very  cold  away  from  shelter.  A 
circuit  to  the  north  was  taken  towards  Kettle  River, 
but  no  signs  of  caribou  were  to  be  seen. 

Their  curiosity  was  fully  satisfied,  and,  as  they 
were  fifty  miles  from  the  home  camp,  they  began  to 
plan  their  return.  They  readily  saw  that  even  if  they 
found  game  there  would  be  no  way  of  getting  it 
out  of  the  country,  for  the  horses  could  never  be 
brought  up  the  mountain.  It  was  now  the  middle 
of  November,  and  another  foot  or  two  of  snow  was 
likely  to  fall  any  night. 

Next  day  a  difficult  piece  of  country  was  entered, 


TRAMP  OVER  THE  MOUNTAINS.  215 

and  the  travelling  over  fallen  timber  and  rocks  and 
through  deep  gulches  was  very  hard.  Two  grouse 
furnished  supper  for  the  hunters  and  this  was  all  the 
meat  they  had.  They  were  now  well  down  the  moun- 
tain, and  just  as  they  were  preparing  to  go  into 
camp  they  saw  an  immense  bear-track.  The  ani- 
mal had  passed  along  but  a  short  time  before.  The 
track  was  fully  nine  inches  wide  in  the  soft  snow.  As 
he  walked  he  had  swung  his  claws  out  to  one  side, 
and  the  marks  left  in  the  snow  were  enormous.  This 
bear  was  just  what  Dyche  was  needing,  and  the  en- 
thusiasm of  both  the  hunters  was  aroused. 

"  That  old  fellow  will  not  go  far  in  this  weather. 
He's  just  out  for  an  evening's  walk.  I'll  bet  we'll 
find  him  within  two  miles  of  camp  in  the  morning," 
said  the  Pathfinder. 

"  Well,  I'm  going  to  follow  him  to  the  jum ping- 
off  place  or  get  him.  He's  just  the  one  I  need  for 
my  collection,"  replied  Dyche. 

"  Oh,  we'll  get  him  sure  enough .  Don't  you  worry, " 
was  McLaughlin's  encouraging  answer. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  the  naturalist. 
"  I'U  give  you  a  clean  fifty-dollar  bill  extra  if  we  get 
that  bear." 

While  McLaughlin  was  eager  enough  to  go  after 
bear,  or  anything  else  that  Dyche  wanted,  without  the 
offer  of  extra  pay,  this  inducement  filled  him  with  a 
desire  to  slay  the  bear  at  once.  The  two  hunters 
spent  the  night  dreaming  of  big  bears,  but  their 
hopes  were  sadly  dashed  when  they  saw  a  heavy 
fall  of  snow  that  had  come  down  during  the  night, 
completely  obliterating  every  vestige  of  the  bear- 
15 


216  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

track.  They  were  almost  inconsolable,  and  after  tak- 
ing a  big  circuit  in  order  to  see  if  the  old  fellow  had 
been  moving  that  morning,  they  were  compelled  to 
return  and  reluctantly  take  up  the  trail  for  the  ranch- 
eree.  They  reached  the  river  about  five  miles  above 
the  home  camp,  and  as  it  was  too  wide  for  a  foot-log 
they  searched  for  a  place  for  a  ford.  Reaching  a  point 
where  the  river  widened  to  about  two  hundred  yards, 
McLaughlin  said  it  was  shallow  enough  to  wade 
and  they  entered  the  water. 

As  the  Pathfinder  plunged  into  the  stream  he  gave 
an  involuntary  "  whoop !"  for  it  was  like  ice.  The 
cold  almost  paralysed  the  muscles  of  their  legs. 
McLaughlin  went  ahead  and  Dyche  followed  close 
behind,  pounding  and  pushing  the  ice  out  of  the 
way,  while  their  teeth  chattered.  Just  as  he 
reached  the  middle  of  the  stream  McLaughlin  sud- 
denly stopped  and  began  making  such  strange  signs 
that  Dyche's  heart  almost  stood  still  with  fear, 
for  he  thought  that  the  Pathfinder  had  been  at- 
tacked with  another  case  of  cramps.  If  this  was  the 
case  then  it  meant  death,  for  there  was  no  possible 
way  of  relieving  him  there.  These  fears,  happily, 
were  groundless.  Mac's  queer  actions  were  caused 
by  an  effort  to  straighten  his  pack,  which  had  slipped. 

The  shore  was  finally  reached,  and  then  it  took 
them  half  an  hour  to  rub  vitality  back  into  their  half- 
frozen  legs.  When  this  was  done  they  hastened  down 
the  stream  to  the  home  camp  five  miles  away.  As 
they  hurried  along  they  saw  a  buck  standing  in  the 
edge  of  the  woods  and  both  fired  at  him,  bringing  him 
to  the  ground.      He  was  almost  as  large  as  the  big 


WOLVES  ABOUT  THE  CABIN.  217 

fellow  which  the  naturalist  had  killed  when  he  first 
came  into  the  country. 

The  rancheree  was  reached  just  at  dusk,  and  Far- 
rell  soon  had  a  smoking  supper  ready,  which  drove 
from  their  minds  the  hardships  of  the  trip.  A  week 
was  now  spent  in  gathering  large  and  small  animals, 
Dyche  dressing  and  preparing  the  skins  and  skele- 
tons supplied  by  the  two  mountaineers.  Twenty- 
one  choice  specimens  of  deer  were  added  to  the  collec- 
tion. Armstrong  took  all  the  extra  meat,  storing  it 
away  for  use  in  the  spring,  when  venison  would  be 
in  bad  condition. 

The  woods  abounded  in  the  large  timber-wolves, 
which  roamed  about  at  night  and  remained  well 
hidden  during  the  day.  Every  night  they  could  be 
heard  howling  just  outside  the  tent,  and  they  chased 
Armstrong's  dogs  to  his  very  door  and  attempted  to 
reach  them  under  the  shelter  of  the  sheds.  Poisoned 
meat  and  traps  had  no  terror  for  them,  as  they  in- 
stinctively shunned  them.  One  evening  Armstrong 
heard  an  uproar  outside  of  his  door  and  opened  it  just 
in  time  to  shoot  a  large  black  wolf  which  was  attempt- 
ing to  kill  his  dog  within  ten  feet  of  the  house.  Thus 
the  week  was  passed,  and  at  the  close  of  the  time  al- 
lotted for  the  stay  the  naturalist  began  to  get  his 
specimens  in  order  for  the  trip  down  the  river.  The 
last  evening  Armstrong,  Farrell,  and  McLaughlin 
each  brought  in  a  deer.  They  were  so  peculiarly 
m'arked  that  a  discussion  of  deer  was  started  at  once. 

Armstrong's  deer  looked  much  like  a  common  or 
Virginia  deer,  but  the  tail  was  black  on  the  outside 
and  white  underneath.     It  was  thought  at  first  that 


218  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

this  was  a  true  Columbia  black-tail  deer,  but  Mc- 
Laughlin, who  had  killed  many  of  them,  was  not 
sure  of  it. 

"Why  do  you  call  these  mountain  deer  'mule 
deer?'  "  asked  Farrell.  "  They  are  called  'black-tails' 
all  through  this  countr5^  " 

"  Yes,  they  are  usually  called  '  black-tails  '  by  the 
hunters  up  in  this  country,  but  they  are  not  the  true 
black- tail  deer.  The  Columbia  or  true  black-tail  deer 
live  on  the  Pacific  side  of  the  mountains,  ranging 
from  California  to  British  Columbia.  Their  range 
is  thus  restricted,  and  only  stragglers  are  ever  seen 
on  this  slope." 

"I've  killed  lots  of  them  on  the  coast  side,"  said 
McLaughlin.  "  They  are  not  so  large  as  these  moun- 
tain or  mule  deer.  Their  legs  are  shorter  and  their 
ears  are  not  so  large." 

"There's  where  the  distinction  comes  in,"  said  the 
naturalist.  "  They  are  not  as  large  as  the  common 
Virginia  deer." 

"Well,  I'd  like  to  know  how  a  fellow's  going  to 
know  them  when  he  sees  them,"  said  Farrell. 
"  Some  mule  deer,  as  you  call  them,  are  small,  with 
short  legs." 

"  They  can  always  be  distinguished,  if  you  know 
how  to  look  at  them,"  was  Dyche's  answer.  "The 
tail  of  the  true  black- tail  deer  is  black  or  tawny  black 
on  the  outside  and  sides,  and  there  is  a  streak  of  white 
underneath.  The  tail  is  round  and  full-haired,  much 
like  that  of  the  Virginia  deer.  That  of  the  latter  is 
flat,  however,  and  much  longer  than  the  other.  The 
ears  of  the  Columbia  deer  are  about  half-way  between 


VARIETIES  OF  DEER.  219 

those  of  the  Virginia  deer  and  the  mule  deer  in  size. 
The  antlers  are  almost  exactly  like  those  of  the  mule 
deer." 

"  Is  there  any  distinction  between  the  horns  of  the 
different  species  of  deer?"  asked  Mac. 

"  There  is  a  greater  difference  here  than  anywhere 
else  except  in  the  glands  of  the  legs.  The  horns  of 
the  Virginia  deer  rise  from  the  head,  swing  back  and 
up  and  around  to  the  front  of  the  head  as  one  beam. 
The  points,  or  branches,  all  grow  up  and  out  of  this 
main  beam.  The  first  or  brow  point  is  usually 
rather  long.  The  horns  of  a  mule  deer  come  up  in 
the  same  general  way,  but  spread  more  and  the 
branches  do  not  stand  up  on  the  main  beam.  The 
brow  point  grows  in  the  same  way  as  in  the  common 
deer,  but  is  usually  shorter.  In  the  mule  deer,  you 
see,  the  main  beam  divides.  Here  you  have  it  in 
this  one,"  said  Dyche,  pointing  to  a  set  of  antlers 
near.  "  Here  it  branches  into  two  equal  parts  and 
these  branches  again  divide  equally.  This  is  the 
distinction  and  is  constant.  A  brow  point  and  four 
branches,  usually  of  the  same  size,  give  the  general 
plan  of  the  antlers  of  the  mule  deer.  There  may  be 
several  other  branches  and  snags  growing  from  the 
horns,  but  the  general  plan  can  usually  be  made  out 
without  trouble  if  you  look  for  it. " 

"Well,  that  clears  me  up,"  said  the  Pathfinder. 
"  As  I  now  understand  you,  the  horns  of  a  mule  deer, 
or  true  black-tailed  deer,  branch  about  the  same  way 
and  there  are  four  main  prongs  besides  the  brow  point. 
If  the  deer  has  such  horns  and  has  a  round  tail  about 
as  large  as  a  mule-deer  tail,  black  or  blackish  on  the 


220  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

outside,  a  white  streak  underneath,  a  full-haired  tail, 
not  bare  underneath  like  a  mule  deer,  and  round,  not 
flat  like  a  Virginia  deer,  then  the  animal  is  a  true 
Columbia  black-tail  deer." 

"That's  the  idea,"  said  Dyche,  "but  you  should 
not  forget  to  take  in  the  ears  and  leg  glands.  The 
ears  of  the  common  deer  are  about  half  as  long  as  its 
tail,  the  ears  of  the  mule  deer  are  nearly  as  long  as 
its  tail,  while  the  ears  of  the  Columbia  deer  are  of 
intermediate  size,  being  a  little  over  half  as  long  as 
the  tail.  Then  there  are  the  leg  glands,  which  are 
always  a  distinctive  mark.  The  metatarsal  gland  is 
situated  on  the  outside  of  the  hind  leg  between  the 
hock  joint  and  foot.  The  gland  is  easily  found  from 
the  extra  length  of  the  hair  which  grows  about  it  and 
forms  a  tuft.  The  glandular  structure  can  easily  be 
seen  by  separating  the  hair  which  grows  on  either 
side  of  it.  This  gland  in  a  mule  deer  is  from  six  to 
eight  inches  long,  extending  down  from  just  below 
the  hock  joint ;  in  the  true  black-tail  deer  it  is  from 
three  to  four  inches  long ;  in  the  common  Virginia 
deer  it  is  from  one  to  two  inches  long." 

"  Well,  I'd  just  like  to  know  what  kind  of  a  deer 
this  is  that  Armstrong  killed,"  said  Farrell.  "Its 
tail  is  black  on  the  outside. " 

"  You  see  the  horns  are  those  of  the  common  Vir- 
ginia deer,"  said  the  naturalist.  "  There  is  one  main 
beam,  with  long  five-inch  brow  points.  All  the 
other  points  grow  up  from  the  main  beam.  The  tail 
is,  as  you  say,  black  on  the  outside,  but  it  is  long — 
twice  as  long  as  the  ears.  Horns,  ears,  and  tail  go 
to  show  that  this  is  a  Virginia  deer.     It  is  not  an 


VARIETIES  OF  DEER.  221 

uncommon  thing  for  the  Virginia  deer  of  this  north- 
western country  to  have  the  outside  of  the  tail  black. 
Deer  in  the  northern  part  of  North  America,  as  a 
rule,  are  much  larger  than  those  of  the  southern 
climes.  Bucks  up  here  frequently  reach  a  weight  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  while  one  weighing 
one  hundred  and  fifty  down  there  is  considered  a  big 
fellow." 

"What's  the  difference  between  the  long-tailed 
deer,  the  white-tailed  deer,  the  Virginia  deer,  and  the 
common  deer?"  asked  Maurice. 

"  A  difference  in  name  only, "  replied  Dyche.  "  The 
species  ranges  all  over  the  United  States  and  up  in 
the  mountains  of  British  Columbia.  Some  writers 
have  gone  so  far  as  to  describe  geographical  varieties 
of  this  deer.  The  mule  deer  is  peculiar  to  the  west- 
em  half  of  the  United  States.  Its  natural  home  is 
in  the  mountains,  but  it  was  formerly  found  along 
the  wooded  streams  as  far  east  as  Kansas  and  Min- 
nesota." 

"You  fellows  would  talk  a  pine  stump  deaf,"  inter- 
jected Armstrong.  "What's  the  difference?  A  deer's 
a  deer.  The  meat  is  all  the  same.  I've  been  eatin' 
it  for  twenty-five  years  and  oughter  know  something 
about  it  by  this  time." 

"You'd  better  go  and  cut  some  wood  for  your 
clutchman  [squaw] .  As  I  came  by  I  saw  her  chop- 
ping and  splitting  that  old  log  in  front  of  the  house," 
replied  Maurice. 

"  Yes,  I  was  out  huntin*  all  afternoon  and  she  didn't 
chop  any  wood,"  said  the  ranchman.  "  She  can  chop 
as  well  as  I  can  but  waits  for  me  to  do  it.     When  I 


223  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

got  my  supper  I  made  a  sneak  and  came  over  here 
and  let  her  do  the  choppin'." 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  spike-horn  buck?"  asked  Mc- 
Laughlin. 

"  Yes ;  I  killed  a  Virginia  deer  in  New  Mexico  with 
his  first  horns.  They  were  about  six  inches  long  and 
were  single.  The  first  horns  of  a  deer  are  usually 
forked.     Spike-horns  are  very  rare." 

"  Do  does  ever  have  horns?"  asked  Farrell. 

McLaughlin  answered  this  by  saying  that  he  had 
seen  one  doe,  in  his  twenty-five  years'  experience, 
which  had  horns.  Dyche  told  of  a  skull  with  small 
horns  that  he  had  seen  in  Denver  which  had  been 
represented  to  be  that  of  a  doe.  The  eyes  of  the  men 
began  to  grow  heavy  now,  and  Armstrong  went  home, 
and  the  others  were  soon  wrapped  in  their  blankets 
listening  to  the  music  of  the  wolves  and  the  wind  in 
the  pines. 

The  horses  were  rounded  up  with  great  difficulty 
next  morning,  for  the  animals  had  had  a  long  rest 
with  plenty  of  food  and  were  full  of  life.  Three 
days'  hard  travelling  carried  the  party  down  the  val- 
ley and  over  the  range  to  Loomis'  ranch,  where  Dyche 
found  twelve  letters.  The  last  freight  wagons  of  the 
season  were  on  the  point  of  starting  for  the  railroad, 
two  hundred  miles  away,  and  the  naturalist  made 
arrangements  to  have  his  specimens  taken  along. 
Maurice  and  McLaughlin  helped  him  to  the  last  min- 
ute, and  the  parting  from  them  was  like  the  separa- 
tion of  old  friends.  The  acquaintance  had  been  but 
of  a  month  and  a  half's  duration,  but  the  camp-life 
had  shown  the  strong  qualities  of  both  men.     The 


PARTING  COMPANY.  223 

management  of  the  camp  was  second  nature  to  them, 
and  the  trackless  wilds  of  the  great  forest  were  as 
plain  and  open  to  them  as  are  the  streets  and  alleys 
to  the  dwellers  in  the  cities.  They  loved  the  forest 
and  its  associations.  To  them  the  singing  of  the 
pines  was  sweet  music.  Trees  and  rocks  were  their 
companions.  They  were  true  sons  of  Nature  and  in 
touch  with  her  ever-changing  mood.  Dyche  was  of 
the  same  mould ;  the  parting  was  not  an  easy  one. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

At  the  Lake  of  the  Woods — After  Moose — A  Plague  of  Mos- 
quitoes— Dark  Swamps  and  Deep  Rivers — Compensations. 

I  HE  work  of  the  winter  and  early  spring  in 
the  workshop  had  put  the  specimens  of 
the  British  Cohimbia  trip  in  good  shape 
for  preservation.  Several  fine  groups 
were  mounted  and  placed  on  exhibition  in  the 
university  museum.  But  as  the  season  advanced 
the. warm  months  brought  to  the  mind  of  the  natu- 
ralist a  desire  for  more  work  in  the  woods.  Dyche 
wanted  a  group  of  moose  to  complete  his  collec- 
tion, and  he  laid  his  plans  before  the  board  of  re- 
gents. When  asked  by  them  where  he  would  get  his 
moose  he  acknowledged  that  he  was  yet  uncertain, 
but  one  thing  was  sure,  and  that  was  that  moose 
were  not  to  be  found  on  the  campus  of  the  uni- 
versity. The  regents  looked  with  favour  on  Dyche's 
plans  and  told  him  to  go  ahead,  and  he  at  once  began 
corresponding  with  people  from  Maine  to  Alaska. 
Moose  could  be  heard  of  in  different  parts  of  the 
country  along  the  northern  border  of  the  United 
States,  but  after  carefully  considering  the  claims  of 
each  place  the  naturalist  decided  that  the  country 
around  the  Lake  of  the  Woods  would  offer  the  best 
opportunities. 


AFTER  MOOSE.  225 

The  first  of  July  found  Dyche  at  Warren,  Minne- 
sota, where  he  met  a  hunter  and  Indian  trader  with 
whom  he  had  been  corresponding.  This  man,  Brown, 
was  not  only  a  hunter,  but  also  a  naturalist  and  a 
close  observer,  and  he  was  therefore  a  most  valuable 
companion.  While  they  were  preparing  for  the  trip 
into  the  swamps  Brown  told  Dyche  much  about  the 
mosquitoes,  and  these  stories  were  so  extravagant 
that  the  naturalist  was  disposed  to  look  upon  them 
as  largely  fiction,  but  he  afterwards  found,  to  his  sor- 
row, that  no  stretch  of  the  imagination  could  equal 
the  reality  in  this  case. 

A  few  days  were  spent  at  Warren  in  buying  an 
outfit  of  horses  and  a  light  wagon.  Just  as  they 
were  ready  to  start  for  the  swamps,  Loughridge,  a 
rancher  who  lived  at  the  end  of  the  road  towards  Thief 
Lake,  came  to  their  camp.  He  was  an  old  friend  of 
Brown's  and  he  asked  the  hunters  to  drive  a  team  of 
mules  which  he  was  sending  home.  He  wished  the 
two  men  to  care  for  the  animals.  They  were 
willing,  and  he  insisted  that  they  should  make 
his  ranch  their  headquarters  while  they  were  in  the 
country.  Loughridge  gave  them  explicit  directions 
about  the  road  and  suggested  that  they  stop  the  first 
night  at  the  ranch  of  a  Norwegian  named  Goshens, 
who  lived  about  a  day's  travel  from  Warren. 

As  evening  approached  they  began  to  look  for  Go- 
shens' place  and  inquired  of  the  l^orwegians  whom 
they  met,  but  found  that  the  English  language  was 
an  unknown  quantity  in  that  region.  At  last  they 
met  a  bright-looking  young  fellow  and  asked  for 
Goshens.     A  stupid  look  rested  on  his  face  for  an 


226  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

instant;  then  he  replied  with  a  smile,  "Ja,  Ga- 
shens." 

He  pointed  in  a  most  indefinite  manner  towards 
several  houses  which  were  in  sight  about  a  mile  from 
the  road,  but  as  they  were  in  different  directions  his 
information  was  useless.  Some  time  was  lost  in  try- 
ing to  discover  the  fellow's  meaning,  and  at  last 
the  party  decided  on  a  house  and  went  to  it.  On 
asking  if  Goshens  lived  there  they  received  an  affirm- 
ative answer,  but  were  surprised  to  find  that  no  one 
about  the  place  talked  English,  although  Loughridge 
had  said  that  Goshens  could  give  them  information. 
Arrangements  were  made,  however,  for  accommoda- 
tions. 

Mosquitoes  had  been  plentiful  for  hours  before  they 
reached  the  ranch,  but  now  the  air  was  literally  alive 
with  them.  The  horses  were  fighting,  kicking,  and 
rolling  in  their  efforts  to  get  rid  of  the  pests,  and  when 
Dyche  went  to  put  blankets  on  them  he  was  driven 
back  into  the  house  by  the  swarms  of  bloodthirsty  in- 
sects and  was  compelled  to  cover  his  head  with  a  thick 
cloth  and  his  hands  with  gloves  before  he  could  get 
near  the  horses.  Then  followed  a  wretched  night, 
the  remembrance  of  which  will  ever  remain  vivid  in 
Dyche's  mind.  It  was  a  constant  struggle  for  fresh 
air  against  swarming  hordes  of  the  most  villanous 
mosquitoes  that  ever  sung.  The  air  was  perfectly 
black  with  them,  while  their  noise  was  almost  like 
the  wind  in  the  pines.  To  make  matters  worse,  red 
sand-fleas  got  into  the  sleeping-bags  and  did  an  ac- 
tive business  all  night  long. 

The  second  night  was  passed  at  the  ranch  of  another 


A  PLAGUE  OF  MOSQUITOES.  237 

Norwegian.  This  ranch,  or  "camp"  as  it  is  called, 
was  in  a  grove  bordering  a  great  marsh  some  seven 
or  eight  miles  wide.  These  marshes  are  covered  with 
grass  and  in  the  dry  seasons  haymakers  are  frequently 
seen  at  work  there.  The  ground  is  virtually  made 
of  dried  grass  and  ligneous  deposits,  which  at  times 
are  burned  away  by  fires  that  rage  across  the  country, 
eating  great  holes  in  the  ground  and  leaving  a  most 
uneven  surface.  Lakes  and  pools  of  various  sizes  in 
these  marshes  afford  breeding-places  for  countless 
thousands  of  water-fowl,  while  over  all,  under  all,  and 
through  all  are  the  mosquitoes. 

The  third  day's  travel  took  the  hunters  to  Lough- 
ridge's  ranch,  where  they  were  in  the  heart  of  the 
mosquito  country.  Large  smudges  of  old  damp 
logs  and  hay  were  kept  constantly  burning  to  give 
the  horses  some  relief.  So  terrible  were  the  attacks 
of  the  insects  that  the  poor  animals  would  not  leave 
the  smoke  to  get  necessary  food.  Next  day  the 
hunters  started  for  Thief  Lake,  which  was  four  miles 
away.  The  whole  country  was  a  jungle  of  brush, 
logs,  and  pea-vines,  and  evening  found  them  still  on 
the  road  with  the  lake  half  a  mile  away.  Next 
morning  their  camp  was  moved  to  the  lake  and  prep- 
arations made  for  the  hunt.  Near  by  was  an  old 
deserted  camp  of  the  Chippewa  Indians.  Scattered 
all  about  were  evidences  that  the  red  men  had  been 
successful  in  their  hunts.  Many  moose  and  bear 
bones  were  seen  hanging  to  trees,  where  they  had 
been  placed  by  the  Indians  to  propitiate  some  god  of 
the  chase.  The  shoulder-blades  of  the  animals  were 
striped  with   charcoal   and   adorned  with   strips  of 


^28  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

cloth  and  then  hung  to  a  limb  as  an  offering.  A 
number  of  fleshing-bones  and  other  implements  used 
by  the  Indians  were  found. 

The  purpose  of  this  trip  was  to  hunt  moose,  but  it 
soon  appeared  to  develop  into  a  fight  with  mosquitoes 
for  twenty-four  hours  each  day.  The  experience  of 
the  first  night  in  the  swamp  was  repeated  every  night 
thereafter  until  the  frost  killed  the  insects.  The 
ponies  were  sewed  up  in  heavy  blankets  from  head 
to  foot,  and  smudge  fires  were  kept  constantly  burn- 
ing that  the  suffering  animals  might  stand  in  the 
smoke.  The  tent  was  pitched  and  banked  down  so 
tightly  on  all  sides  that  it  was  impossible  for  the  in- 
sects to  enter.  Then  with  a  lighted  candle  every 
mosquito  inside  the  tent  was  tried  by  fire.  It  was 
stifiing  inside  the  tent,  but  it  was  torment  on  the 
outside.  During  the  night  the  horses  threshed 
around  among  the  bushes,  rolling,  kicking,  squeal- 
ing, and  tumbling  about  in  their  efforts  to  rid 
themselves  of  the  pests,  and  at  last  one  of  the  animals 
got  down  and  began  rolling  in  the  ashes  of  the  fire. 
This  proceeding  was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  smudge 
fire  had  burned  low,  and  Dyche  prepared  to  go  out  to 
start  the  fire  again.  Brown  endeavoured  to  dissuade 
him,  but  it  was  necessary  to  relieve  the  horses  or  they 
might  tear  down  the  tent.  Covering  himself,  head 
and  hands,  with  cheese-cloth,  the  naturalist  went  to 
the  remains  of  the  fire.  The  air  was  thick  with 
mosquitoes.  The  warm  blankets  of  the  horses  were 
literally  hidden  by  the  insects.  The  tent  was  so  com- 
pletely covered  that  not  a  sign  of  white  could  be  seen 
anywhere.      The    droning    noise    changed    into    a 


A  PLAGUE  OF  MOSQUITOES.  229 

screaming  sound,  rising  and  falling  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  swarms,  which  extended  for  miles 
upon  miles  in  every  direction.  Dyche  was  at  once 
covered.  After  starting  a  fire  with  the  old  logs, 
so  that  a  dense  smoke  would  rise,  he  returned  to 
the  tent,  but  there  went  with  him  hundreds  of 
mosquitoes,  and  another  hour  was  spent  with  the 
candle  getting  rid  of  them.  This  experience  was 
repeated  night  after  night,  while  the  days  were 
spent  in  brushing  the  swarms  away  from  the 
nose,  mouth,  and  eyes.  With  every  precaution  it  was 
impossible  to  be  free  from  the  bites,  and  their  hands 
and  faces  were  swollen  from  the  poisonous  stings. 
The  tops  of  the  tall  tamarack  trees  were  the  only 
places  where  the  hunters  could  be  free  from  the  pests. 

An  old  Norwegian  lived  in  a  small  log  hut  near, 
and  the  hunters  paid  him  a  visit.  They  soon  discov- 
ered that  the  old  fellow  had  evidently  lost  his  sense 
of  smell.  He  spent  his  time  in  catching  and  curing 
fish,  which  he  caught  by  means  of  a  dam  and  fish- 
trap  in  the  stream.  These  fish  were  hung  on  a  pole 
to  dry,  and  with  them  hung  the  skin  of  the  old  man's 
dog,  which  had  died  a  few  days  before.  The  Nor- 
wegian offered  some  fish  from  the  pole  to  his  visitors, 
but  they  were  declined  with  thanks.  The  extent  of 
his  conversational  powers  was  limited  to"Ja,  so," 
which  fact  gave  him  the  name  of  "  Old  Ja  So." 

The  days  were  slipping  by  and  neither  moose  nor 
signs  of  moose  were  found.  Dyche  had  come  to  the 
country  early  in  order  to  get  moose  calves,  but  as 
time  passed  he  saw  no  prospect  of  accomplishing  his 
object.      Days  were  passing  into  weeks,  and  some- 


230  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

thing  must  be  done  soon  if  a  specimen  of  a  calf  was  to 
be  secured.  Finally  it  was  determined  to  move  camp 
to  the  other  end  of  the  lake.  They  were  just  ready 
to  proceed,  when  the  horses  took  it  into  their  heads 
to  add  to  the  troubles  which  had  followed  the  party 
ever  since  they  had  come  into  the  country.  The 
load  had  been  securely  packed  and  then  tied  down 
in  order  to  keep  it  in  place  on  the  wagon.  Just  as 
they  were  ready  to  start  the  horses  made  a  bolt  and 
were  off  towards  Loughridge's  ranch  at  full  speed. 
Dyche  and  Brown  ran  after  them  for  a  few  hundred 
yards  and  then  gave  up  the  chase  and  proceeded  slowly 
on  the  broad  trail  left  by  the  bounding  wagon.  The 
outfit  was  soon  out  of  sight  and  the  naturalists  fol- 
lowed at  a  fast  walk,  wondering  what  would  be  left 
by  the  time  the  horses  had  finished  their  escapade. 

The  trail  was  almost  lost,  when  a  horse- blanket  ly- 
ing in  the  swamp  showed  them  the  way,  and  then 
they  found  a  ham.  With  a  blanket  and  a  ham  they 
could  at  least  sleep  and  eat,  so  with  this  grain  of  con- 
solation they  continued  the  chase.  Here  the  wagon 
had  struck  a  root  and  there  it  had  almost  turned 
over.  A  piece  of  the  tail-gate  was  found  and  then  a 
broken  bit  of  the  wagon-box  stood  up  in  the  swamp. 
Here  lay  the  lid  of  the  "  chuck-box  "  and  there  the 
top  of  the  cracker-box.  Hurrying  on,  they  finally 
came  in  sight  of  Loughridge's  ranch,  and  there, 
standing  at  the  corral  fence,  were  the  runaways,  ap- 
parently asleep.  Old  Buck  had  been  warranted  as 
one  of  the  gentlest  horses  in  the  country,  but  his  gen- 
tleness was  laziness,  and  it  turned  out  that  he  would 
run  away  at  every  opportunity. 


DARK  SWAMPS  AND  DEEP  RIVERS.  231 

Dyche's  work  in  the  taxidermic  shop  stood  him  in 
good  stead  now,  and  with  some  bolts  and  strap  iron 
found  in  the  remains  of  an  old  mowing-machine  he 
soon  had  the  wagon  in  as  good  a  condition  as 
before.  The  hunters  now  proceeded  to  the  head 
of  the  lake  and  renewed  their  hunt  for  a  moose 
calf.  They  were  in  the  midst  of  the  great  swamp 
and  they  explored  the  country  for  miles  in  every 
direction.  This  was  surely  the  home  of  the  moose 
and  there  were  signs  that  the  animals  had  been 
there,  as  old  beds  and  tracks  were  seen.  Dyche 
soon  discovered  that  while  it  was  easy  for  him 
to  find  his  way  about  the  mountains,  it  was  a 
different  matter  here.  He  spent  one  bad  afternoon 
searching  for  camp,  under  the  impression  that  he 
would  have  to  remain  in  the  swamps  all  night  with 
no  protection  from  the  mosquitoes.  It  was  only  by 
the  greatest  luck  that  he  finally  came  to  the  river  and 
followed  the  stream  to  camp.  Day  after  day  was 
spent  in  unsuccessful  hunting,  and  the  hunters  were 
almost  ready  to  give  up  in  despair,  when  they  dis- 
covered a  place  where  a  cow  moose  and  her  twin 
calves  had  made  their  beds.  The  beds  were  more 
than  a  week  old,  but  they  renewed  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  hunters. 

Camp  was  again  moved  and  they  went  as  far  as 
possible  into  the  swamp.  The  whole  country  was 
covered  with  "moskegs,"  a  peculiar  formation  com- 
posed of  plants  and  grass  which  had  become  so  matted 
as  to  make  a  new  soil  on  the  top  of  the  water  of  the 
lakes,  and  finally  had  become  so  firm  as  to  give  sup- 
port for  the  growth  of  trees  and  shrubs.  There  were 
16 


232  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

hundreds  of  acres  of  cranberries  and  blueberries  in 
the  swamp,  and  while  to  all  appearances  the  surface 
was  firm  ground,  it  was  in  reality  a  most  treacherous 
place,  for  at  any  moment  the  hunter  might  sink  to 
his  hips  in  water.  Here  were  found  so  many  evi- 
dences of  moose  that  the  hunters  were  satisfied  that 
they  had  at  last  reached  the  right  place.  All  was 
going  well  and  the  indications  pointed  to  a  successful 
moose-hunt,  when  Brown  had  the  misfortune  to  let 
his  axe  slip  and  cut  his  foot  between  the  heel  and 
ankle.  Dyche  had  gone  for  wood,  and  when  he  re- 
turned he  saw  his  companion  rolling  on  the  ground 
and  moaning.  The  flow  of  blood  could  not  be 
stopped  for  several  minutes.  The  wound  was  dressed, 
but  Brown  was  compelled  to  lie  still  for  several  days, 
while  to  Dyche  fell  the  greater  part  of  camp  work 
and  all  the  hunting. 

East  from  the  camp  there  stretched  a  great  meadow, 
and  it  became  a  daily  habit  for  one  of  the  hunters  to 
mount  the  wagon  and  examine  this  open  place  for 
any  possible  indication  of  game.  After  Brown's 
foot  had  begun  to  heal  and  he  was  doing  light  work 
about  the  camp,  he  was  dissuaded  with  difficulty 
from  going  out  to  hunt.  One  morning  Dyche  was 
standing  on  the  wagon  scrutinising  the  meadow,  when 
he  called  to  Brown  in  a  low  but  excited  voice.  Brown 
climbed  up  as  quickly  as  his  lame  foot  would  permit. 

"What  is  it?" 

"There,  don't  you  see  them?  Just  at  the  edge  of 
the  timber." 

Brown  eagerly  scanned  the  country  with  field- 
glasses  and  at  last  caught  sight  of  the  animals. 


.  DARK  SWAMPS  AND  DEEP  RIVERS.  2B3^ 

"Moose!"  he  exclaimed;  "they  are  moose,  sure. 
They  are  nearly  out  of  sight  behind  that  point  of 
brush,  but  they  are  moose,  sure." 

Brown  crawled  down  from  the  wagon,  and  despite 
all  warnings  from  Dyche  began  to  make  preparations 
for  a  hunt.  He  caught  up  his  Mariin  and  Dyche 
his  Winchester,  and  off  they  went,  Brown  hobbling 
along  on  his  lame  foot  while  Dyche  tried  in  vain  to 
induce  him  to  go  back  to  camp. 

"  Get  back.     You'll  ruin  that  foot,"  said  Dyche. 

"Guess  I  can  stand  it,"  was  the  only  answer. 

"  You'll  catch  cold  in  it  in  the  water." 

"Guess  I  can  stand  it." 

The  animals  had  moved  south  into  a  bunch  of 
willows  which  extended  into  the  swamp.  The  wind 
was  in  the  northwest  and  the  hunters  made  a  cir- 
cuit to  the  south,  hoping  to  head  off  the  moose  be- 
fore they  got  out  of  the  country.  Brown,  whose 
foot  seemed  to  give  him  no  trouble,  was  of  the  opin- 
ion that  they  would  not  be  able  to  get  ahead  of  the 
animals  unless  they  stopped  to  feed  in  the  bunch  of 
willows,  for  when  they  once  started  they  usually 
kept  going  for  many  miles. 

Reaching  a  point  three-quarters  of  a  mile  to  the 
south  of  the  place  where  the  moose  had  been  seen,  the 
hunters  thought  it  time  to  look  for  signs.  There  were 
no  indications  that  the  game  had  passed  that  way. 
Dyche  climbed  a  tall  tree  and  scanned  the  country  in 
every  direction,  but  there  was  no  living  thing  to 
be  seen.  A  long  consultation  resulted  only  in 
the  belief  that  they  knew  that  there  were  three  moose 
in  the  country,  and  the  hunters  made  their  way  slowly 


234  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

back  towards  camp.  Dyche  thought  the  animals 
might  be  feeding  in  the  willow  thicket,  but  Brown 
said  it  was  hardly  possible.  His  experience  taught 
him  that  they  always  fed  away  from  the  lakes  and 
rivers.  Their  beds  and  other  signs  were  nearly  al- 
ways found  far  in  the  woods,  which  would  tend  to 
carry  out  the  theory.  He  felt  quite  sure  that  the 
moose  were  miles  away  to  the  south  by  this  time. 
"While  giving  due  weight  to  Brown's  theories,  Dyche 
could  not  get  rid  of  the  idea  that  the  animals  might 
be  feeding  in  the  willows,  and  at  last  Brown  said  he 
would  crawl  through  while  Dyche  went  around  on 
the  edge  to  shoot  if  the  animals  rushed  out.  Brown 
was  cautioned  not  to  shoot  the  old  cow,  for  the  season 
was  so  far  advanced  that  her  hair  would  be  in  bad 
condition  and  her  meat  was  not  needed. 

"  Don't  kill  the  cow,  but  if  you  get  the  two  calves 
I'll  give  you  ten  dollars  extra,"  was  the  parting  in- 
junction. 

"  They  are  dead  calves  if  I  see  them,"  was  Brown's 
reply,  as  he  crawled  into  the  brush. 

Five  minutes  of  silence ;  then  a  shot  rang  out, 
quickly  followed  by  four  others  in  rapid  succession. 
A  bullet  sang  close  to  Dyche 's  head  and  he  dropped 
to  the  ground  to  escape  the  next  one.  A  whining, 
bawling  noise  was  heard  and  then  Brown  shouted. 
Hastening  to  the  spot,  the  naturalist  found  Brown 
bending  over  a  moose  calf,  not  yet  dead.  A  short 
distance  away  lay  another. 

"Brown,  you've  done  well,  but  I  ought  to  have 
been  in  it  and  got  one  of  them." 

"  That's  so.     These  are  your  moose." 


COMPENSATIONS.  235 

"Where's  the  old  cow?    Which  way  did  she  go?" 

"  Go?  Why,  she  was  lying  down  there  in  the  edge 
of  the  brush  and  got  up  within  five  rods  of  me." 

"  Well,  where  did  she  go?" 

"Go?  Why,  she  just  stood  there  and  I  shot  her 
for  her  impudence.  She  looked  as  if  she  was  going 
to  charge  me.  I  never  yet  allowed  a  moose  to  get  up 
within  five  rods  of  me  and  run  off  if  I  could  help  it." 

The  hair  of  the  cow  was  found  to  be  in  excellent  con- 
dition. It  was  short  and  thick,  almost  black.  Her 
skin  and  skeleton  and  meat  were  saved  after  care- 
ful measurements,  and  they  were  taken  to  camp 
with  the  calves  next  day,  while  traps  were  set  about 
the  remains  of  the  dead  cow.  The  calves  were  an 
iron-gray  colour,  shading  into  black  on  the  under 
sides  and  lighter  on  the  legs. 

A  week  was  spent  in  getting  the  specimens  in  order, 
another  in  returning  to  Warren,  and  a  third  in  pack- 
ing the  specimens  and  preparing  i;hem  for  ship- 
ment. Old  Buck  was  traded  off  for  an  active  little 
black  horse  and  then  a  trip  was  taken  to  Thief  River 
Falls,  where  a  number  of  moose  calves  were  in  cap- 
tivity. A  day  was  spent  in  examining  them  and 
making  notes  and  drawings.  Some  of  the  calves 
were  so  tame  that  they  allowed  themselves  to  be 
measured  with  a  tape-line. 


CHAPTER    XYL 

In  the  Swamps— Habits  of  the  Moose— The  Moose-Call— On 
the  River— Good  Shooting  Secures  a  Group— The  King  of 
Game  Animals— The  Naturalist  nearly  Killed. 

JePTEMBER  was  half  gone.  The  cold 
north  wind  brought  ice  and  snow  and 
the  conditions  were  changed  in  the 
swamps.  Travelling  was  as  difficult  as 
it  could  well  be.  The  chill  air  and  snow  put  a 
damper  on  the  mosquitoes,  however,  and  while  these 
pests  were  not  exterminated  they  made  their  ap- 
pearance only  on  the  warmest  days.  Water  was 
everywhere  and  the  whole  swamp  seemed  converted 
into  one  vast  lake.  It  became  necessary  to  build  a 
platform  of  poles  and  logs  on  which  to  make  camp. 
On  this  platform,  twelve  feet  wide  by  twenty-four 
long,  was  the  equipment  of  the  hunters.  One  end 
supported  the  tent,  while  on  the  other  a  little  clay 
and  wet  debris  from  the  bottom  of  the  swamp  was 
placed.  On  this  clay  bed  the  fire  was  built,  and  as  it 
burned  down  to  the  water's  edge  the  clay  and  ashes 
made  a  good  foundation.  To  prevent  accident,  how- 
ever, the  fire  was  extinguished  whenever  the  himters 
left  camp. 

All  the  hunting  was  now  done  in  water,  and  the 
236 


IN  THE  SWAMPS.  237 

continual  wading  placed  Dyche's  knees  in  a  condition 
which  strongly  reminded  him  of  goat-hunting  in 
the  Cascades.  Higher  and  higher  rose  the  water,  and 
the  horses  were  in  danger  of  losing  their  hoofs  from 
standing'  in  so  much  moisture.  A  quaking-asp 
grove  on  a  sand  ridge  was  discovered  about  a  mile 
from  the  platform  camp,  and  it  was  decided  to  move 
to  this.  Three  days  later  the  hunters  were  ensconced 
in  a  new  camp.  Water  or  no  water,  they  were  de- 
termined to  stay  until  they  secured  a  moose,  even  if 
it  took  them  until  Christmas  to  do  it.  With  a  ton 
of  good  hay  cut  for  the  horses,  there  was  nothing 
to  prevent  an  enjoyable  hunt  in  the  water. 

Cold  nights  with  heavy  frosts  had  changed  the  as- 
pect of  the  whole  country.  The  shivering  aspens  had 
dropped  their  leaves,  while  the  tamaracks  were  chang- 
ing to  a  golden  brown  and  covering  the  earth  with 
their  needles.  Vast  armies  of  ducks,  geese,  and  other 
aquatic  fowls  covered  the  swamp  in  every  direction 
and  streamed  overhead  in  countless  thousands  all 
day  and  night,  with  their  constant  "  honk,  honk,  " 
like  the  bugle-calls  of  some  great  army.  Many 
flocks  of  willow-grouse  came  about  the  camp,  and 
their  cackling  could  be  heard  in  all  directions  in  the 
cold  frosty  mornings  as  they  sat  on  the  bare  trees  or 
the  upturned  roots  of  some  overthrown  giant  of  the  for- 
est. Thousands  of  incidents  new  and  strange  to  the 
naturalist  were  of  daily  occurrence  and  lent  zest 
to  the  hunting. 

But  the  horns  of  the  bull  moose  were  now  getting 
hard,  and  it  was  a  big  bull  moose  that  Brown  and 
Dyche  were  after.    The  naturalist  wanted  a  very  large 


238  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

one  to  head  his  group.  Brown  was  anxious  to  please 
him,  but  he  shook  his  head  whenever  this  big  fellow 
was  mentioned. 

"  You  may  get  one,  but  I  doubt  it.  I've  been  hunt- 
ing moose  for  five  years  and  have  never  yet  seen  a 
very  large  one.  Big  bulls  are  mighty  scarce.  I 
found  the  horns  of  one  once  having  a  spread  of  forty- 
eight  inches,  but  I  think  he  was  the  last  of  the 
lot." 

While  Brown  was  inclined  to  be  discouraging, 
Dyche  was  determined  to  have  a  big  moose  if 
there  was  one  left  in  the  swamp.  The  season  for 
calling  moose  had  arrived,  and  while  the  naturalist 
had  heard  much  of  this  manner  of  attracting  the  ani- 
mals, he  had  never  seen  it  done.  Brown  was  an  old 
moose-caller  and  had  brought  the  animals  up  to  him 
and  shot  them.  He  had  learned  the  art  of  an  old 
Nova  Scotia  moose-hunter  who  had  spent  a  lifetime 
at  the  business.  Dyche  took  lessons  until  Brown 
pronounced  him  proficient  enough  to  deceive  the  old- 
est moose  in  the  woods,  and  then  they  were  ready  to 
go  after  the  big  fellows. 

"The  moose  knows  what  he's  about  every  time," 
said  Brown.  "You  can't  fool  him  unless  you  do 
everything  just  right.  A  moose  can  smell  where 
you  have  passed  along  several  hours  before,  and 
whenever  he  gets  scent  of  a  man  it's  good-bye,  Mr. 
Moose.  You  can  call  the  moose  and  get  the  answer 
all  right  enough.  The  old  fellow  may  be  three  or 
four  miles  away,  but  he  will  come  promptly  to  the  spot 
whence  the  call  comes.  He  won't  come  in,  a  bee-line, 
but  he  will  get  there.     He  goes  in  a  big  circle  around 


HABITS  OF  THE  MOOSE.  289 

and  around  the  place  or  zigzags  back  and  forth,  grad- 
ually getting  closer  and  closer  until  he  is  within  a 
few  hundred  yards,  and  then  he  will  go  slowly  and 
be  sure  that  everything  is  just  right.  If  there  is  the 
slightest  wind  he  will  scent  you,  and  off  he  goes  to 
some  secluded  spot  ten  or  fifteen  miles  distant.  The 
best  way  is  to  get  on  the  bank  of  a  lake  or  river,  with 
the  wind,  if  there  is  any,  blowing  towards  the  water, 
and  then  the  moose  will  go  backwards  and  forwards, 
quartering  from  one  side  to  the  other,  until  he  is  close 
up.  If  you  make  a  sound,  take  a  step,  or  move  your 
cramped  legs,  all  your  trouble  is  for  nothing,  for  the 
old  fellow  will  never  stop  to  investigate,  but  will  go 
out  of  the  country  as  fast  as  his  legs  can  carry 
him. 

"  You  are  in  no  danger  whatever  from  the  moose, 
for  they  never  attack  a  man  unless  badly  wounded 
and  unable  to  get  away.  But  there  are  many  strange 
things  that  happen  while  you  are  lying  out  in  the 
swamp  waiting  for  the  moose  to  come.  Sometimes 
a  big  fellow  will  be  answering  your  call  and  coming 
towards  you,  and  while  your  attention  is  directed 
towards  him  you  will  be  surprised  by  the  appearance 
of  a  young  bull  which  has  also  been  attracted  but 
which  has  come  silently  for  fear  of  the  big  one.  The 
young  fellow  is  not  saying  much,  but  the  first  thing 
you  know  he  stumbles  in  on  you  and  spoils  the  whole 
thing. 

"  Sometimes  the  bull  that  answers  will  have  a  cow 
with  him.  When  he  hears  the  call  he  will  leave  his 
cow  and  start  for  the  new  one.  The  old  cow  gets 
jealous  and  starts  too,  and  while  the  old  bull  is  thresh- 


240  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

ing  around  in  the  bushes  she  comes  straight  to  you 
ready  to  fight  her  rival.  Then  again  I've  known 
bears  to  come  where  they  hear  the  cow  bawling. 
I  suppose  they  think  there  is  a  calf  somewhere  in  the 
bushes  and  expect  to  get  some  of  the  meat.  You 
may  be  lying  in  the  bushes  listening  to  the  guttural 
grunts  of  the  big  bull  moose  as  he  makes  his  circuit 
around  you,  when  suddenly  a  bear  will  appear  in 
front  of  you  looking  for  something  to  eat.  Well, 
you  ain't  hunting  bear  just  then  and  the  sight  is  any- 
thing but  pleasant. 

"When  you  are  calling  moose  and  are  answered 
by  the  barking  of  wolves  or  coyotes,  you  can  just  put 
up  your  horn  and  go  back  to  camp.  There  will  be 
no  moose  that  night.  I  don't  know  why,  but  that 
is  what  old  man  Thomas  told  me  and  I  have  always 
found  it  true.  The  howling  of  wolves  in  reply  to  a 
moose-horn  seems  to  be  a  sure  sign  that  the  moose 
will  not  answer." 

This  talk  had  the  effect  of  making  Dyche  think  that 
moose-calling  was  anything  but  a  pleasant  operation, 
and  when  he  came  to  try  it  he  found  that  the  reality 
was  even  worse  than  the  anticipation.  One  night 
when  the  wind  had  died  down  the  first  attempt  to 
beguile  a  moose  was  made.  It  was  wet  and  cold,  and 
after  Dyche  had  been  stationed  in  a  bit  of  swamp  at 
the  edge  of  the  river,  where  he  immediately  got  wet 
to  the  skin,  Brown  made  a  call.  The  first  call  was 
low,  with  the  horn  turned  towards  the  ground, 
while  the  mouth  of  the  instrument  was  muffled 
with  the  hand.  After  waiting  fifteen  minutes 
without    an    answer    the    call    was    made    again, 


THE  MOOSE-CALL.  241 

this  time  louder  with  the  mouth  of  the  horn  free. 
Twenty  minutes  passed  and  no  answer  came.  A 
third  time  the  call  was  made,  loud  and  clear,  but  no 
answer  came.  Again  the  call  was  given,  this  time 
with  the  full  force  of  the  hunter's  lungs.  It  rang 
out  over  the  forest  like  a  trumpet. 

With  the  birch-bark  cone  at  his  lips,  the  mouth 
towards  the  ground,  Brownemitted  a  peculiar  grunt- 
ing squeal,  and  as  he  called  he  elevated  the  horn  with 
a  spiral  motion  high  in  the  air  over  his  head  and 
then  back  down  towards  the  ground,  the  sound  rising 
and  falling  and  vibrating  through  the  forest.  This 
was  repeated  three  times  and  then  they  waited  in  the 
stillness  for  the  answer.  The  noise  is  the  bawl  of 
the  cow  moose,  and  is  a  combination  of  the  prolonged 
howl  of  a  dog  and  the  lowing  of  a  cow,  if  this  can  be 
imagined. 

The  sound  penetrated  the  depths  of  the  forest  for 
miles,  and  the  echoes  had  barely  died  away  when  there 
came  from  a  far-distant  part  of  the  swamp  a  most 
peculiar  grunting  or  thumping  noise.  It  sounded 
something  like  the  rapidly  repeated  "  woof,  woof  "  of 
a  big  dog.  The  sound  was  continued,  the  moose 
gradually  drawing  nearer  and  nearer,  all  the  while 
uttering  his  deep  guttural  grunt  or  bark.  It  was  his 
answer  to  the  cow,  and  while  he  was  undoubtedly 
three  miles  away  when  he  first  heard  the  call,  he  went 
directly  to  the  spot  where  the  two  men  were  lying 
concealed,  almost  frozen  from  their  long  wait  in  the 
frosty  swamp  grass.  Dyche  was  stiff  and  numb  from 
his  hips  down,  while  Brown  was  in  little  better  condi- 
tion.    The  old  fellow  was  coming,  however,  and  they 


242  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

did  not  mind  the  disagreeable  part  of  it  if  they  could 
only  get  a  shot  at  a  large  bull  moose.  The  "  woof, 
woof "  came  closer,  and  at  last  they  could  hear  the 
animal  threshing  around  in  the  bushes  about  a  hun- 
dred yards  away.  At  last  he  appeared  at  the  edge  of 
a  thicket  about  a  hundred  yards  away  from  the  hunt- 
ers. He  was  threshing  the  bushes  in  an  extraordi- 
nary fashion  and  all  the  while  keeping  up  his  grunting 
noise.  As  he  circled  around  he  could  be  seen  as  he 
passed  from  one  clump  of  bushes  to  another.  Finally 
he  came  out  into  the  opening  and  trotted  about  forty 
yards  forwards  towards  Dyche  and  Brown.  Here  he 
stopped  stone-still,  with  his  head  erect  and  his  great 
black  body  looming  up  like  that  of  an  elephant. 
Dyche  whispered  that  it  was  time  to  shoot,  but 
Brown  objected,  saying  that  the  moose  would  come 
closer.  But  his  prediction  was  erroneous,  for  the 
bull  suddenly  wheeled  about  and  dashed  into  the 
bushes,  where  he  resumed  his  grunting  and  thresh- 
ing. For  over  an  hour  he  continued  tramping 
around  within  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  the 
hunters,  until  at  last  Dyche  grew  so  cold  that  he 
could  not  have  hit  a  moose  ten  yards  away.  No 
noise  had  been  heard  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  and 
the  naturalist  said  he  was  going  back  to  camp. 
Brown  gave  another  muffled  call,  and  as  no  answer 
came  they  started  for  the  tent.  Just  as  they  were 
well  under  way  the  moose  gave  another  grunt  and 
began  beating  the  bushes  with  his  horns  again.  The 
hunters  crouched  down  and  waited  for  another  half- 
hour,  when  Dyche  made  a  break  for  the  camp,  de- 
claring that  there  were  not  enough  moose  in  the 


THE  MOOSE-CALL.  243 

woods  to  keep  him  there  another  minute.  They 
reached  the  tent  about  midnight,  chilled  through. 

Several  inches  of  fresh  snow  fell  soon  after,  and 
Dyche  made  a  circuit  through  the  country.  He  found 
fresh  moose-tracks  and  started  after  the  animal,  fol- 
lowing the  trail  for  about  eight  miles  without  seeing 
the  moose.  Great  holes  had  been  pawed  in  the  snow 
and  the  trees  and  bushes  showed  marks  where  they  had 
been  threshed  with  the  horns  of  the  bull.  In  several 
places  the  moose  had  stopped  to  feed  upon  the  tender 
tops  of  willow  bushes  and  the  red  osier  or  "  killikinic." 
Sometimes  the  trail  led  straight  through  the  centre  of 
these  patches  of  willow  and  osier,  but  usually  it  skirted 
them.  The  moose  seemed  to  enjoy  going  through 
ihQ  centre  of  the  spruce  and  tamarack  groves,  where 
there  was  plenty  of  water,  which  gave  Dyche  a  pair 
of  very  wet  feet. 

One  evening  Dyche  concluded  to  try  calling  alone. 
Taking  the  birch-bark  horn  he  went  to  the  bank  of 
the  river,  about  four  miles  from  camp.  The  wind 
went  down  with  the  sun,  and  just  as  the  great  yellow 
disk  disappeared  the  naturalist  gave  a  muffled  call. 
No  answer  came  and  the  call  was  repeated.  Far  off 
in  the  tamarack  swamp  a  sound  was  heard  which 
the  hunter  at  first  failed  to  recognise,  although  he 
finally  concluded  that  it  was  a  moose.  His  supposition 
was  not  amiss,  for  soon  the  animal  was  heard  coming 
directly  towards  his  place  of  concealment.  The  moose 
was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  and  at  last  he  could 
be  heard  in  the  bushes,  threshing  around  with  his  im- 
mense horns  until  one  could  almost  imagine  that  a 
dozen  bulls  were  fighting  in  the  forest.     Dead  limbs 


244  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

would  be  knocked  down  and  his  horns  would  rattle 
against  the  trees,  and  then  all  would  be  silent  for 
several  minutes. 

The  moose  was  between  fifty  and  seventy-five  yards 
away,  and  now  Dyche  began  to  fear  that  the  animal 
would  refuse  to  come  out  where  he  could  be  seen. 
All  the  while  the  naturalist  was  getting  colder  and 
colder,  but  he  did  not  dare  take  a  step  or  get  into  an 
easier  position  for  fear  of  sending  the  animal  back  to 
the  forest.  It  became  evident  that  the  moose  did  not 
intend  to  cross  the  river,  and  the  hunter  determined 
either  to  bring  the  game  out  or  send  him  back  home. 
With  the  birch-bark  horn  he  gently  rubbed  the  top  of 
the  willows.  It  was  the  challenge  from  one  bull  to 
another.  Instantly  all  sound  from  the  bull  ceased. 
The  big  moose  stood  and  listened.  Dyche  waited 
fully  half  an  hour,  but  never  a  sound  came  from  the 
bull.  The  rain  now  came  down  heavily,  and  Dyche 
decided  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  waste  more  time  with 
the  moose.  He  gave  the  bushes  another  rub  and  then 
emitted  a  defiant  grunt  from  the  horn.  The  effect  was 
magical.  The  moose  bolted  straight  for  the  deep 
woods,  making  as  much  noise  as  a  pair  of  horses 
running  away  with  an  empty  hay- wagon.  He  knew 
he  had  been  deceived  and  stopped  for  nothing.  Dyche 
was  half-frozen  and  his  legs  were  stiff,  but  he  was 
able  to  get  a  little  amusement  out  of  the  bull's  fran- 
tic flight. 

For  three  weeks  the  swamps  were  hunted  in  every 
direction,  and  during  the  whole  time  not  a  gun  was 
fired.  An  old  flat-bottomed  scow  which  they  had 
brought  in  with  them  was  caulked,  and  they  started 


ON  THE"  RIVER.  245 

on  an  exploring  expedition  up  Moose  River.  Moose 
were  undoubtedly  in  the  country  somewhere,  for  they 
answered  the  calls  whenever  they  were  made.  They 
poled  along  up  the  river,  intending  to  stop  morning 
and  evening  and  call  for  moose  when  the  weather 
was  suitable. 

It  was  hard  work,  but  they  pushed  on,  cutting 
away  the  overhanging  boughs  and  shoving  aside 
the  driftwood  with  their  poles.  About  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day  they  reached  a  place 
where  the  river  widened  into  a  small  lake.  Just  as 
they  rounded  the  point  into  the  little  lake  a  moose  calf 
was  seen  standing  in  the  water.  The  calf  started 
through  the  brush  to  the  woods  and  Dyche  shot  as  it 
was  disappearing  in  the  thicket.  Again  and  again 
he  fired,  sometimes  at  the  calf  and  sometimes  at  the 
woods,  but  with  no  evidence  that  the  wild  flight  of 
the  animal  was  impeded.  Just  as  the  last  cartridge 
in  the  gun  was  fired  another  calf,  which  had  been 
standing  in  the  water  and  brush  farther  up  stream, 
started  out,  and  the  naturalist  seized  Brown's  gun 
and  sent  a  shot  after  it.  The  boat  was  pushed  ashore 
and  search  was  made  for  the  calves,  but  the  only 
wounds  apparent  were  those  made  in  the  trees. 
There  were  signs  that  three  moose  had  been  feeding 
near  by,  but  the  animals  had  evidently  gone  else- 
where on  urgent  business. 

They  now  pushed  their  way  up  the  river  and  at 
sundown  Brown  gave  several  calls  and  got  an  answer. 
The  grunts  continued  several  hours,  but  as  they  did 
not  appear  to  come  closer  the  hunters  crawled  into 
their  sleeping-bags,  leaving  the  moose  to  grunt  at 


246  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

his  pleasure.  Shortly  after  midnight  Dyche  was 
aroused  by  a  strange  noise,  but  the  barking  of  a  fox 
and  a  spirited  conversation  between  two  owls  was 
all  that  broke  the  stillness,  and  he  dropped  back  to 
sleep  again.  An  hour  later  he  was  wakened  by 
Brown,  who  was  crawling  out  of  his  blankets. 

"Get  ready,"  came  in  an  excited  whisper  from 
Brown. 

"  What  for?"  was  the  sleepy  response. 

"  Don't  you  hear  that  noise?  A  big  moose  is  com- 
ing." 

The  word  "  moose "  fully  aroused  Dyche  and  the 
hunters  prepared  for  action.  The  bull  came  on, 
making  a  great  noise  with  his  grunting  and  thresh- 
ing, but  after  he  came  within  fifty  yards  of  the  hunters 
he  refused  to  come  farther  and  remained  just  within 
the  thicket  and  out  of  sight,  all  the  while  keeping  up 
his  noise.  It  was  very  aggravating  for  the  hunters 
to  sit  all  night  in  the  cold,  waiting  for  the  moose  to 
come  into  sight,  and  then,  just  when  daylight  ap- 
peared, to  have  him  retreat  to  the  place  whence  he 
came.  They  got  into  the  boat,  much  dejected,  and 
returned  to  the  home  camp,  where  a  good  night's  rest 
placed  them  in  condition  for  another  trial.  They 
spent  the  day  in  going  up  and  camped  at  the  head 
of  Moose  Calf  Lake,  as  the  place  had  been  named 
by  Brown  in  honour  of  Dyche's  adventure  with  the 
calves. 

They  pushed  on  up  the  stream  all  next  day  and 
went  much  farther  than  they  had  ever  been  before. 
When  evening  came  they  allowed  the  boat  to  drift 
with  the  sluggish  current  and  floated  in  this  lazy 


ON  THE  RIVER.  347 

manner  until  about  ten  o'clock,  when  they  crawled 
out  on  the  bank  and  sought  a  dry  spot  on  which  to 
sleep.  As  the  evening  wore  on  the  cloudiness  turned 
to  a  drizzling  rain  and  then  the  water  poured  down. 
It  was  a  dreadful  night,  and  morning  found  two  be- 
draggled hunters  who  were  inclined  to  believe  that 
the  world  is  but  a  fleeting  show.  Tired  and  sore 
from  their  exertions  in  pushing  the  boat  all  day  and 
weary  and  care-worn  from  a  sleepless  night  in  the 
rain,  they  allowed  the  boat  to  take  its  own  course. 

Occasionally  one  or  the  other  would  dip  his  pole  in 
the  water  in  a  half-hearted  way  and  then  lapse  into 
inactivity  again.  Thus  they  moved  along  until  the 
afternoon,  feeling  that  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
get  back  to  camp  and  secure  some  sleep.  A  few  big 
owls  sitting  on  the  tops  of  the  trees  eyed  them  in  a 
quizzical  manner  and  appeared  to  make  sport  of 
their  dreary  condition.  Dyche  was  sore,  mentally 
and  physically,  and  he  felt  that  moose-hunting  was  a 
failure,  especially  in  a  country  where  there  was 
water  not  onlj^  under-foot,  but  overhead,  all  the 
time.  The  season  for  calling  moose  was  about  over, 
and  they  had  succeeded  in  getting  them  to  come  no 
closer  than  the  bushes  where  they  could  remain 
hidden.  While  these  doleful  thoughts  were  chasing 
each  other  through  Dyche's  brain.  Brown  capped 
the  climax  by  saying : 

"  Yes,  a  big  bull  moose  is  the  rub." 

Slowly  drifting  along,  they  reached  the  spot  where 

Dyche  had  had  his  experience  with  the  calves  a  few 

days  before.     As  they  pushed  on  through  the  lake, 

Dyche  glanced  over  into  the  bushes  at  which  he  had 
IT 


248  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

wasted  so  much  ammunition,  and  Brown  quietly  re- 
marked : 

"Yes,  that  is  the  spot." 

No  comment  was  necessary  on  Dyche's  part,  as  he 
felt  that  it  was  not  his  time  to  talk. 

Just  as  they  were  making  the  turn  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  lake,  Dyche,  who  was  sitting  in  the  bow 
of  the  boat,  noticed  a  moose  calf  in  the  water  about 
seventy-five  yards  below.  Only  the  top  of  the 
animal's  back  showed  above  the  water.  As  he 
reached  for  his  gun  he  noticed  a  smile  flit  across 
Brown's  face,  and  the  calf  turned  towards  him  with 
an  air  that  seemed  to  say :  "  Hello !  is  that  you  again  ?" 
In  less  than  a  second  Dyche  had  his  gun  trained  on 
the  back  of  the  calf  and  sent  a  bullet  after  it.  The 
calf  made  a  desperate  lunge  for  the  bank  and  disap- 
peared in  the  bushes  on  the  south  side  of  the  stream. 

The  boat  was  so  unwieldy  that  the  naturalist  could 
not  push  it  to  shore  fast  enough,  and  he  jumped  into 
the  water  and  ran  for  the  bank,  trying  to  get 
ahead  of  the  calf.  He  ran  as  fast  and  as  far  as  he 
could  to  get  out  into  the  open  swamp,  away  from  the 
brush  which  lined  the  shore,  hoping  to  obtain  another 
shot  before  the  calf  reached  the  spruce  thickets. 
After  running  forty  or  fifty  yards  through  the  swamp, 
a  noise  on  the  north  side  of  the  river  attracted  his 
attention  and  he  saw  a  big  moose  just  going  into  the 
bushes.  Dyche  sent  a  bullet  after  it  and  then  ran  to 
get  around  a  clump  of  bushes  to  a  spot  where  he 
could  catch  another  glimpse  of  the  animal.  A  run  of 
seventy  yards  brought  the  moose  into  sight  again, 
and  two  more  bullets  were  sent  after  her  as  she  dis- 


OOOD  SHOOTING  SECURES  A  GROUP.         249 

appeared  in  the  bushes.  After  another  run  around 
some  brush  he  stopped  to  regain  his  breath,  when 
a  sight  met  his  eyes  which  almost  took  away  his 
breath. 

A  giant  bull  moose  was  just  coming  out  of  the 
bushes  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  facing  al- 
most directly  towards  Dyche.  In  an  instant  it  flashed 
through  his  mind  that  this  was  the  animal  which  he 
had  been  looking  for.  It  was  evident,  even  at  that 
distance,  that  the  moose  was  a  monster.  His  massive 
horns  branched  like  the  tops  of  the  trees  around  him 
and  his  form  showed. that  he  was  one  of  the  ancients 
of  the  swamps.  The  naturalist  realised  that  this  was 
the  opportunity  of  a  lifetime.  He  had  been  hunting 
for  this  moose  for  three  months  and  now  he  was  here. 

Bringing  his  Winchester  to  his  shoulder,  Dyche 
held  his  breath  and  commanded  his  throbbing  arte- 
ries to  be  still.  The  bull  was  almost  facing  him 
and  was  just  swinging  around  the  clump  of 
bushes,  when,  with  the  crack  of  the  rifle,  he  gave  a 
great  lunge  forward  and  then  whirled  in  his  tracks 
and  started  back  into  the  woods.  This  gave  the 
hunter  time  to  pump  in  another  cartridge,  and  a 
second  shot  was  taken  as  the  animal  went  into  the 
bushes.  Again  a  heavy  lunge  showed  that  the  bullet 
had  gone  home,  and  as  the  animal  went  threshing 
through  the  bushes  two  more  bullets  were  sent  at  the 
head,  which  could  be  seen  going  up  and  down  as  the 
bull  struggled  to  get  through  the  jungle  of  brush  and 
logs. 

The  bull  was  now  out  of  sight,  and  Dyche  started 
to  run  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  where  he  could  get  a 


250  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

clear  view  across,  when  the  calf  jumped  up  from  be- 
hind a  log  where  it  had  been  lying.  The  frightened 
animal  ran  fifty  yards  before  Dyche  could  get  a  shot 
at  it,  and  then  it,  too,  disappeared  and  not  a  moose 
was  to  be  seen  or  a  sound  heard. 

Dyche  ran  back  to  the  spot  where  he  had  left  Brown 
in  the  boat,  but  Brown  had  gone  ashore  on  the  north 
side  and  the  boat  was  drifting  down  the  river.  The 
naturalist  waded  to  the  scow  and  poled  his  way 
across.  He  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when 
he  heard  a  shout  from  Brown.  Hastening  to  his  com- 
panion, he  found  him  standing  over  a  mighty  bull 
moose.  He  was,  indeed,  a  monster.  His  great  horns 
spread  out  above  his  head  like  immense  shields,  while 
his  body  showed  that  he  was  the  giant  of  the  swamps. 
Dyche  was  almost  exhausted  with  his  exertions  and 
excitement,  but  he  found  sufficient  breath  to  jump  on 
the  big  animal  and  make  the  woods  ring  with  the 
university  yell.  Brown  looked  at  him  in  surprise 
and  then  started  off  to  look  for  more  moose.  Soon 
his  call  was  heard  again,  and  this  time  Dyche  found 
him  standing  beside  the  body  of  a  cow.  Dyche  gave 
more  cheers  while  his  companion  went  to  look  for 
the  calf. 

Soon  Dyche  heard  the  vigorous  use  of  strong  lan- 
guage in  the  direction  of  the  river,  and  hastening 
there  found  that  Brown  had  undertaken  a  task  which 
was  almost  too  much  for  him.  The  calf,  badly 
wounded,  was  standing  in  the  water  pulling  back 
from  Brown,  who  was  holding  to  one  ear  while  he 
braced  himself  by  grasping  the  willows  lining  the 
stream  with  one  hand.     The  calf  was  getting  some- 


GOOD  SHOOTING  SECURES  A  GROUP.         251 

what  the  better  of  this  unique  tug  of  wpr,  and 
when  Dyche  reached  the  spot  Brown  was  up  to  his 
waist  in  water  and  going  deeper.  Getting  hold  of 
the  other  ear,  Dyche  assisted  Brown  in  landing  the 
prize,  which  soon  died  of  its  wounds. 

These  incidents  occurred  in  a  very  short  space  of 
time,  yet  to  Dyche  it  seemed  that  he  had  accom- 
plished the  object  of  a  lifetime.  What  a  bull  this 
was !  A  leader  in  every  sense  of  the  word  and  just 
the  one  to  head  the  group  which  Dyche  had  in 
contemplation.  The  horns  and  the  grand  proportions 
of  the  body  exceeded  even  the  wildest  dreams  of  the 
naturalist,  and  he  almost  feared  that  he  would  wake 
and  find  the  whole  episode  a  dream.  He  had  seen 
many  sets  of  horns,  but  never  before  horns  like  these. 

The  measurements  were  taken  and  the  specimens 
dressed  so  that  they  would  not  be  disturbed  until 
they  could  be  taken  to  the  home  camp.  From  the 
top  of  the  back  to  the  point  of  the  hoof  the  big  moose 
measured,  just  as  he  lay,  eighty-five  and  a  half  inches ; 
from  the  top  of  the  back  to  the  bottom  of  the  hoof, 
eighty-one  and  a  haK  inches.  The  standing  height  of 
the  animal,  after  all  corrections  were  made,  was  just 
seventy-eight  and  a  half  inches.  This  was  equal  to  a 
horse  nineteen  and  a  half  hands  high,  and  above  this 
towered  the  massive  head  with  its  wide-branching 
horns.  The  skin  weighed  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  pounds  after  it  had  dried  one  day  in  the  open  air. 
The  heart  was  twenty-two  inches  in  circumference  at 
the  base  and  ten  and  a  half  inches  in  length,  weigh- 
ing, when  free  from  all  blood  and  arteries,  six  and  a 
half  pounds. 


253  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

The  old  cow  and  calf  were  fit  companions  for  this 
monarch  of  the  woods,  and  the  three  composed  as 
magnificent  a  group  of  the  finest  game  animals  in  the 
world  as  could  be  found  in  years  of  hunting. 

Much  has  been  said  and  written  about  the  pleasure 
of  hunting  the  buffalo,  and  that  animal  has  been 
looked  upon  by  the  average  lover  of  sport  as  the  em- 
bodiment of  perfection  in  the  way  of  game.  He  has 
always  been  considered  the  king  of  the  plains,  and 
to  hunt  him  has  been  the  ambition  of  kings.  His 
decadence  has  been  mourned  as  the  passing  of  an 
era  in  the  history  of  the  sporting  world.  While  it  is 
true  that  the  bison,  when  he  roamed  the  prairies 
in  the  countless  numbers  recorded  by  Lewis  and 
Clarke  in  their  "  Explorations,"  afforded  much  excite- 
ment to  the  lovers  of  the  chase,  yet  the  fact  re- 
mains that  he  had  none  of  the  characteristics  which 
belong  to  the  true  game  animal.  The  stupid  beasts 
would  stand  in  droves  while  the  pot-hunter  crawled 
up  and  shot  down  hundreds  from  a  place  of  conceal- 
ment. He  was  an  easy  victim  of  the  red  men  with 
their  simple  weapons  of  the  pre-Caucasian  times  and 
was  the  great  food-supply  for  the  natives.  The  body 
of  the  bison  is  large  and  affords  food  for  many,  while 
his  robe  gives  warm  covering,  but  he  was  never,  in 
any  sense  of  the  word,  a  game  animal. 

But  how  is  it  with  the  moose,  the  giant  of  the 
swamps?  Here,  indeed,  is  the  greatest  of  all  the 
game  animals  of  the  Noriih  American  continent.  He 
is  a  monarch  of  the  forests,  and  in  addition  to  his 
size  he  has  sufficient  speed  and  cunning  to  outwit  the 
wariest  hunter,  while  his  courage  is  equal  to  a  defence 


THE  KING  OF  GAME  ANIMALS.  253 

to  the  death  when  he  is  too  closely  pressed  or  receives 
wounds  which  stop  him  in  his  flight.  His  home  is 
in  the  swamps,  where  his  cunning  and  instinct  teach 
him  that  his  enemies  are  at  a  disadvantage.  His 
eyes  are  of  the  keenest  and  note  any  casual  change 
in  the  appearance  of  the  landscape,  while  his  nose, 
composed  of  a  combination  of  cartilaginous  boxes, 
detects  the  faintest  odour  left  by  a  passing  enemy 
even  hours  after  the  trail  has  been  made.  He  does 
not  stand  and  investigate  strange  sights  or  examine 
unusual  scents,  but  at  the  first  indication  of  danger 
he  flies  to  the  deepest  woods  of  the  swamps  and  leaves 
many  miles  between  him  and  the  place  where  there 
is  a  possibility  of  danger. 

The  hunters  had  now  been  away  from  the  home 
camp  for  three  days  and  they  were  uneasy  about 
the  welfare  of  the  horses,  which  had  been  picketed 
out  where  they  could  get  grass  and  water.  As  they 
approached  the  camp  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  man 
going  from  the  river  to  the  tent.  Fearing  that  bad 
news  from  home  must  have  sent  this  messenger  into 
the  swamps,  the  naturalist  hurried  forward  to  greet 
the  visitors.  Superintendent  Wood,  of  the  Pembina 
Farm,  near  Warren,  and  "  Holy  Smoke  "  Bolton  had 
come  to  pay  the  hunters  a  visit,  and  finding  the  camp 
deserted  they  had  taken  possession  to  await  the  re- 
turn of  the  owners.  They  had  had  a  tiresome  trip 
and  tedious  search  for  the  camp,  and  had  arrived  just 
after  the  hunters  had  gone  on  their  last  trip  up  Moose 
River.  They  would  have  passed  the  camp  had  it  not 
been  for  the  little  black  horse  which  Wood  had  sold 
to  Dyche.     The  superintendent  had  seen  the  animal 


254  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

feeding  in  the  brush,  and  supposing  it  to  be  a  moose 
had  made  an  hour's  stalk  and  discovered  his  mistake 
just  as  he  was  about  to  fire  at  the  animal.  The  pick- 
eted horse  showed  the  visitors  that  they  were  near 
camp,  and  they  soon  found  the  place  and  made  them- 
selves at  home. 

The  goodly  supply  of  home-made  bread,  jam, 
cookies,  pies,  and  the  other  unwonted  delicacies 
brought  by  the  visitors  was  greatly  relished  by  the 
naturalist  and  his  companion.  Bolton  could  only 
stare,  while  his  ejaculations  of  "  Holy  smoke ! "  at  the 
rapid  disappearance  of  the  good  things  showed  how 
he  came  by  his  nickname.  The  three  days  in  the 
swamps  had  put  an  edge  on  the  appetites  of  the 
hunters  that  caused  an  exceedingly  rapid  diminution 
of  the  stock  of  provisions.  But  while  exertion  had 
improved  their  appetites,  it  must  be  said  that  their 
personal  appearance  had  sadly  deteriorated,  and  their 
visitors  were  constrained  to  make  many  remarks  on 
the  subject  of  tramps. 

As  the  visitors  found  little  evidence  that  the  hunt- 
ing had  amounted  to  anything  they  were  disposed  to 
make  light  of  the  efforts  of  the  naturalist,  and  many 
were  the  humorous  remarks  which  were  passed  at 
the  expense  of  men  who  would  stay  two  months  in  the 
swamps  and  have  nothing  to  show  for  it.  The  hunters 
contented  themselves  with  silence,  but  next  morning 
when  they  took  their  visitors  up  the  river  to  the 
place  where  the  three  moose  were  lying  it  was  their 
time  for  laughing,  and  Wood  and  Bolton  confessed 
that  the  trophies  were  well  worth  the  time  spent  in 
capturing  them. 


THE  NATURALIST  NEARLY  KILLED.  255 

Three  days  were  spent  in  getting  the  skins, 
bones,  and  meat  to  camp.  Bolton  and  Wood  were 
ready  to  return  to  Warren,  and  they  took  a  wagon- 
load  of  meat  out  with  them  to  the  settlement,  where 
it  could  be  made  use  of.  Bolton  was  enamoured  of  the 
camp  life,  and  loading  the  wagon  with  fresh  supplies 
returned  to  the  camp  in  the  swamp. 

Hunting  was  continued  with  varying  success  until 
the  cold  November  winds  froze  the  swamps  solid,  and 
then  the  specimens  were  packed  and  the  party  started 
on  their  return  to  civilisation.  All  went  well  until 
the  party  was  nearing  Loughridge's  ranch.  Bolton 
had  been  driving  all  day  and  called  to  Dyche  to  re- 
lieve him  while  he  walked  a  little  to  get  warm.  Just 
as  the  naturalist  took  his  seat  the  horses  started  and 
the  off  wheel  of  the  wagon  dropped  into  a  deep  rut, 
while  the  other  side  struck  a  rock.  The  result  was 
that  Dyche  lurched  forwards,  and  before  he  could  re- 
cover himself  he  had  fallen  to  the  double-trees  and 
thence  to  the  ground  immediately  in  front  of  the 
wheel,  which  passed  directly  across  his  abdomen,  the 
heavily  loaded  wagon  almost  crushing  the  life  out  of 
him.  As  the  front  wheel  went  over  him  he  raised 
himself  so  that  the  hind  wheel  struck  his  shoulder 
and  threw  him  forwards  under  the  wagon,  out  of  the 
way  of  more  danger. 

The  accident  was  serious  and  the  naturalist  was  in 
such  pain  that  he  could  not  bear  the  jar  of  the  mov- 
ing wagon.  After  lying  at  the  ranch  two  days  it 
was  decided  to  leave  the  camp  effects  and  specimens 
at  the  ranch  and  make  an  ambulance  of  the  spring 
wagon  in  order  that  the  nearest  surgeon  could  be 


256  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

reached.  The  trip  to  Pembina  Farm  was  made,  and 
two  weeks'  rest  there  so  improved  the  condition  of  the 
patient  that  he  concluded  to  go  back  into  the  woods 
instead  of  following  out  his  intention  of  returning 
home  at  once.  A  team  was  hired  to  bring  in  the 
specimens  from  Loughridge's  ranch,  and  after  these 
were  packed  and  shipped  home,  Dyche  made  his  ar- 
rangements for  a  trip  to  the  Lake  of  the  Woods  with 
Brown  and  a  hunt  with  the  Chippewa  Indians. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

With  the  Indians— How  Indians  Hunt  Big  Game— The  Par- 
allel Trails — Indian  Superstitions — A  Potent  Beverage — 
Moose  all  "  Nickoshin  " — Return  to  Civilisation. 

)T  was  a  lonesome  road  which  the  hunters 
travelled  to  War  Road  River.  Ice  cov- 
ered the  swamps,  but  it  was  not  firm 
enough  to  support  the  heavily  laden 
wagons,  many  of  which  were  passed  sticking  fast 
in  the  mud,  their  owners  patiently  waiting  for  a 
hard  freeze,  so  that  they  might  get  through  the 
swamps  on  the  surface.  Every  camp  was  full  of 
moose-hunters  who  had  strange  tales  to  tell  of  their 
adventures  and  prowess,  but  little  to  show.  They 
knew  all  about  moose-hunting,  and  found  such  ready 
listeners  in  Dyche  and  Brown  that  they  were  dis- 
posed to  "  talk  large  "  for  the  benefit  of  the  strangers. 
The  naturalist  and  his  companion  pushed  on  and 
finally  reached  Brown's  little  cabin,  near  the  village 
of  the  Chippewas.  Dyche  was  still  very  sore  from 
the  effects  of  his  fall,  and  while  Brown  busied  him- 
self in  cleaning  the  cabin  and  making  it  habitable,  the 
naturalist  endeavoured,  through  the  medium  of  an  in- 
terpreter, to  make  arrangements  with  the  red  men  for 
a  hunt.  The  Indians  flocked  to  the  cabin  to  see  the 
new-comers,  but  they  were  suspicious  of  all  white 

257 


258  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

men,  for  their  experience  with  traders  had  taught 
them  that  white  men  were  not  all  honest. 

Dyche  used  every  argument  that  he  could  bring  to 
bear,  but  with  no  apparent  success.  He  even  offered 
to  pay  full  price  for  the  game  that  he  killed,  as  well  as 
that  killed  by  the  Indians.  He  was  willing  to  buy 
everything  killed  during  the  trip,  and  in  order  that 
there  might  be  no  doubt  about  it  he  offered  to  leave  the 
money  with  any  trader  whom  the  red  hunters  knew. 
All  his  talk  seemingly  had  no  effect.  The  Indians 
were  shy  and  made  many  signs  to  each  other,  grunt- 
ing out  their  monosyllables  and  evidently  not  con- 
vinced that  they  could  accommodate  the  naturalist. 
Finally  the  interpreter  told  Dyche  that  they  were  dry. 
"Too  much  talk,  too  little  firewater."  The  savages 
puffed  hard  at  their  stone  pipes  when  told  that  the 
hunters  did  not  have  any  a'nd  did  not  use  any. 

As  soon  as  Dyche  and  Brown  finished  their  supper 
they  began  preparations  for  sleeping,  as  they  were 
both  tired  from  the  day's  exertions.  The  Indians 
took  the  hint  and  silently  filed  out  of  the  cabin.  By 
daylight  the  Chippewas  were  prowling  around  the 
cabin,  and  at  the  first  sign  that  the  hunters  were 
awake,  the  red  men  crowded  in  and  sat  around  the 
fire  watching  the  preparations  for  breakfast. 

Dyche  spent  the  entire  day  in  an  attempt  to  reach  an 
agreement  with  the  Indians,  but  made  little  progress. 
The  Chippewas  were  perfectly  willing  to  hunt  for 
him  and  sell  him  their  game,  but  did  not  like  the  idea 
of  his  being  with  them  on  the  trail.  They  could  not 
understand  why  he  desired  to  go  along.  The  natu- 
ralist patiently  explained  over  and  over  again  that  it 


WITH  THE  INDIANS.  269 

was  necessary  for  him  to  skin  the  animals  and  pre- 
pare the  specimens.  He  told  them  what  he  desired  to 
do  with  the  game,  and  as  Brown  had  mounted  several 
birds  here  during  one  of  his  previous  visits,  the  ex- 
planations were  easily  understood,  but  the  red  men 
were  unwilling  to  give  in.  Their  obstinacy  was 
finally  overcome,  however,  and  they  agreed  that 
Dyche  should  go  with  them.  Maypuck,  the  chief, 
Kakagens  (Little  Raven) ,  Machiveness,  and  Gib,  the 
interpreter,  were  to  make  up  the  party.  The  chief 
could  speak  a  few  words  in  English,  but  the  inter- 
preter was  necessary. 

While  these  arrangements  were  being  made  Dyche 
spent  much  of  his  time  in  visiting  the  Indian  village 
and  studying  the  home  life  of  the  Chippewas.  The 
village  was  composed  of  log-cabins  and  tepees  cov- 
ered with  coarse  grass  and  birch  bark.  The  princi- 
pal occupation  of  the  tribe  was  fishing,  and  the  main 
food-supply  was  fish  and  a  peculiar  black  rice  found 
growing  around  the  lake.  The  squaws  made  nets 
and  prepared  the  fish  and  the  skins  of  game  while 
the  bucks  lay  around  doing  much  smoking  and 
no  work.  The  Indian  is  tireless  on  the  chase,  but 
he  thinks  his  work  done  when  the  animal  is  slain 
and  he  leaves  the  labor  at  the  camp  to  his  squaw. 
Brown  had  been  here  often  before,  and  he  said  that  in 
the  spring  the  Indians  varied  their  diet  of  fish  and 
rice  with  the  eggs  of  aquatic  birds,  which  bred  in 
great  numbers  in  the  vicinity.  The  stage  of  incuba- 
tion of  the  eggs  cut  no  figure  at  all  in  the  case,  the  In- 
dians rather  giving  preference  to  those  in  which 
the  young  bird  was  about  to  break  through  the  shell. 


260  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

The  village  was  alive  with  wolfish  dogs,  whose 
principal  occupation  seemed  to  be  fighting  against 
every  other  dog  in  the  neighbourhood  over  the 
scant  scraps  left  by  the  Indians.  As  the  food  re- 
fused by  an  Indian  is  barely  good  enough  for  a  dog, 
the  animals  had  a  hard  time  in  getting  a  sufficient 
supply  to  keep  life  in  their  bodies  through  the  win- 
ter. While  there  was  no  danger  of  their  attacking 
the  hunters,  yet  it  was  necessary  carefully  to  guard 
the  camp  to  prevent  their  depredations. 

Many  of  the  squaws  sat  hour  after  hour  on  the  ice 
of  the  lake,  fishing,  either  with  hooks  and  lines  or 
with  nets  which  they  ran  under  the  ice  and  left  for 
two  or  three  days  at  a  time.  When  a  pickerel  or 
white  fish  was  caught  the  woman  jerked  it  out 
on  the  ice  and  killed  it  with  a  blow  of  an  axe. 
These  fish  were  cured  and  those  that  were  not  sold 
to  the  traders  were  eaten.  Dyche  walked  to  the 
edge  of  the  lake  to  witness  the  fishing  operations  of 
the  squaws,  but  as  soon  as  he  approached,  the  women 
gathered  up  their  lines  and  blankets  and  made  a  dash 
for  the  village.  Gib,  the  interpreter,  laughed  at  the 
incident  and  explained  their  actions  by  saying  that 
they  were  all  young  squaws  and  were  afraid  of  a 
man. 

Dyche  supposed  that  all  arrangements  were  now 
complete,  but  he  was  greatly  surprised  to  find  that  the 
Indians  made  no  preparations  for  departure.  They 
now  said  that  they  thought  he  would  not  keep  his 
agreement  about  paying  for  the  animals  killed  by 
himself.  There  was  another  long  pow-wow,  and  at 
last  he  was  able  to  convince  them  that  he  would  do 


WITH  THE  INDIANS.  261 

everything  that  he  had  promised.  He  offered  to  leave 
the  money  with  Brown  or  any  other  trader  whom  they 
knew,  but  just  as  the  party  started  they  decided  not  to 
trust  the  traders,  but  told  the  naturalist  to  keep  the 
money  himself  and  pay  it  to  them  when  the  animals 
were  killed.  With  this  understanding  the  party  filed 
out  of  the  village,  Maypuck  drawing  the  sled  on  which 
was  packed  the  camp  equipment. 

Dogs  are  the  usual  draught  animals  of  the  Indians, 
and  when  Dyche  asked  why  they  were  not  used  on 
this  trip  the  response  was: 

"  Dog  no  nickoshin  [no  good].     Too  much  brush." 

The  Chippewas  found  a  malicious  pleasure  in  travel- 
ling fast,  apparently  to  try  the  mettle  of  the  naturalist, 
whose  side  was  still  painful  and  who  kept  up  with  his 
red  companions  with  much  difficulty  during  the  first 
few  days  of  the  trip.  It  was  now  very  cold,  the  tem- 
perature going  as  low  as  ten  and  fifteen  degrees  below 
zero  every  night.  During  the  day  Dyche's  mustache 
and  eyebrows  froze  solid  as  he  walked  along.  The 
Indians  were  warmly  dressed  in  heavy  clothing  made 
from  blankets,  and  Maypuck,  in  addition,  had  a  pe- 
culiar hood  of  white  flannel  with  a  blue  fringe  run- 
ning from  the  front  over  the  top  of  the  head  to  the 
neck.  This  hood  was  shaped  something  like  the  old- 
fashioned  sun-bonnet  and  was  very  warm,  and 
highly  prized  by  the  chief.  As  an  especial  mark  of 
favour  he  offered  to  let  the  naturalist  wear  it,  but 
Dyche  was  a  little  shy  of  its  inhabitants  and  declined 
as  gracefully  as  possible. 

The  Indians  kept  up  a  species  of  dog- trot  all  day  over 
the  moskegs,  keeping  out  of  the  dense  forests  as  much 


262  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

as  possible.  This  trot  was  one  means  of  keeping 
warm,  and  while  it  is  trying  to  the  muscles  of  a  white 
man  at  first,  he  soon  becomes  accustomed  to  it  and 
finds  it  an  easy  way  to  travel.  Just  about  noon  the 
Indian  who  was  leading  suddenly  stopped  and  began 
preparations  for  building  a  fire.  One  of  the  others 
went  a  few  yards  away  and  began  chopping  a  hole 
in  the  ice  at  the  edge  of  the  swamp.  Dyche  supposed 
that  he  was  after  water  and  took  a  small  bucket  to 
the  place,  but  was  surprised  to  see  the  Indian  pulling 
a  large  piece  of  moose-meat  from  the  hole.  It  had 
been  placed  in  the  water  in  the  course  of  some  previous 
hunt.  The  flesh  was  white  on  the  outside,  but  in- 
side it  was  good  and  sweet.  The  Chippewas  said  that 
it  would  keep  a  long  time  in  the  ice-cold  water  with- 
out spoiling.  As  meat  is  never  spoiled  for  an  Indian, 
this  assertion  can  be  taken  in  an  Indian  sense.  Dyche 
discovered  a  bear's  skull  tied  to  a  tree  and  started  to 
take  it  down  to  examine  it,  but  was  prevented  by  the 
Indians.  On  this,  as  on  numerous  occasions  when 
he  asked  concerning  peculiar  customs  and  habits  of 
the  savages,  the  only  response  given  him  was :  "  Oh, 
that's  Indian."  This  was  accompanied  by  a  signifi- 
cant shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  such  an  evident  desire 
to  avoid  the  subject  that  the  naturalist  did  not  press 
his  questions. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Maypuck  called 
a  halt  and  the  Chippewas  made  camp.  A  quantity  of 
dry  tamarack  logs  were  cut  and  brought  in  to  keep 
the  fire  going  during  the  night.  Nights  are  bitterly 
cold  in  this  country,  and  the  Indians  evidentlj^  did  not 
believe  in  the  doctrine  advanced  by  their  brethren  of 


HOW  INDIANS  HUNT  BIO  GAME.  263 

more  southern  latitudes,  "  White  man  make  big  fire, 
go  'way  off  and  freeze ;  Indian  make  little  fire,  stay 
close  by  and  keep  warm,"  for  they  made  a  roaring 
fire  and  kept  it  supplied  with  wood  all  night. 

The  Indians  did  little  but  eat  and  smoke  while  in 
camp.  Even  in  the  night  they  toasted  pieces  of 
meat  before  the  fire  and  ate  them.  It  was  so  cold 
next  morning  that  everything  in  the  woods  was 
popping  and  cracking.  Maypuck  took  Dyche  and, 
with  the  thermometer  marking  twenty-eight  de- 
grees below  zero,  started  after  moose.  The  chief 
moved  like  a  cat  through  the  jungle  of  brush  and 
fallen  timber,  but  walked  rapidly  when  he  reached 
open  places.  After  travelling  in  this  way  about 
three  miles  the  Chippewa  suddenly  stopped  and  threw 
up  his  hand  as  a  warning  to  his  companion.  Dyche 
stood  perfectly  still  while  the  Indian  slipped  cau- 
tiously forwards.  He  worked  forwards  carefully  and 
at  last  beckoned  Dyche  to  come  on.  The  trail  of  a 
band  of  moose  was  seen  in  the  snow,  and  after  exam- 
ining the  tracks  closely  for  several  minutes  and  look- 
ing at  the  tops  of  the  willows  which  had  been  nipped 
off,  the  chief  decided  that  the  animals  had  passed 
along  but  a  short  time  previously  and  had  gone  north. 

Dyche  now  learned  something  in  the  way  of  hunt- 
ing which  surprised  him,  but  which  he  utilised  many 
times  later  on  in  his  hunting  expeditions.  Instead 
of  following  in  the  tracks  of  the  moose,  the  chief 
walked  fully  two  hundred  yards  off  to  one  side  and 
then  followed  along  on  a  line  parallel  with  the  trail 
of  the  animals.  He  moved  very  cautiously  but  very 
rapidly  for  about  a  mile  and  then  crawled  towards  a 
18 


264  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

bunch  of  willows,  through  which  the  trail  evidently 
ran.  So  carefully  did  the  Indian  go  that  Dyche  was 
sure  there  were  moose  in  the  willows,  but  this  was 
not  the  case.  The  Indian  was  taking  no  chances, 
and  he  used  every  precaution  just  as  if  he  was  sure  he 
was  crawling  up  on  the  game.  The  bunch  of  willows 
and  killikinic  showed  many  signs  of  the  recent  pres- 
ence of  the  moose. 

Maypuck  took  a  small  stick,  placed  it  in  the 
trail  and  broke  it,  pointing  to  Dyche 's  foot  and  shak- 
ing his  head.  The  naturalist  understood  readily 
enough  that  he  must  not  break  sticks  on  the  trail. 
The  chief  now  took  up  Dyche's  foot  and  placed  it  di- 
rectly in  the  track  of  his  own  moccasin,  indicating 
that  only  one  trail  must  be  made,  in  order  to  lessen  the 
danger  of  breaking  twigs.  Having  thus  cautioned 
his  companion,  the  Indian  renewed  his  stalking  with 
even  greater  care  than  he  had  exercised  before.  As 
he  approached  another  clump  of  willows  Dyche  was 
again  deluded  by  the  extreme  caution  displayed  by 
the  Chippewa,  who  crawled  to  the  thicket  as  if  creep- 
ing up  on  an  animal  in  sight.  When  the  Indian  be- 
gan examining  the  place  Dyche  went  up  to  him  and 
found  three  beds  where  moose  had  been  lying  but  a 
short  time  before.  As  the  moose  had  walked  away 
they  were  evidently  not  frightened  by  the  hunters. 

Maypuck  examined  everything  very  carefully. 
His  next  move  was  a  puzzle  to  Dyche.  The  Indian 
took  the  naturalist  by  the  coat  and  pointed  in  the 
direction  the  moose  had  gone,  and  then  at  the  tracks. 
Dyche  could  not  understand.  Maypuck  sat  on  a  log 
and  smoked.     After  finishing  this  he  again  went 


THN  PARALLEL  TRAILS.  265 

through  the  coat-pulling  operation,  but  his  meaning 
was  still  hidden,  so  Dyche  took  the  red  man's  coat  and 
repeated  the  sign.  May  puck  smiled  at  this,  took  an- 
other smoke,  and  said : 

"  Camp  nickoshin." 

Dyche  nodded  his  head,  after  which  the  Indian 
smoked  awhile  and  said ; 

"  Moose  nickoshin. " 

Again  Dyche  nodded  his  head  in  approval  and  the 
Indian  smoked  for  a  moment  or  so  longer.  Finally 
the  chief  put  up  his  pipe,  got  up  from  the  log,  say- 
ing "  Camp  nickoshin,"  and  started  off  in  that  direc- 
tion. After  a  tramp  of  eight  miles  in  an  almost 
straight  line,  they  reached  camp  just  at  dark.  The 
naturalist  now  sought  an  explanation  from  Gib  of 
the  strange  actions  of  the  chief,  and  found  that  May- 
puck  was  trying  to  find  out  whether  he  wished  to 
follow  the  moose  or  return  to  camp. 

The  other  Indians  reached  camp  before  dark,  Ka- 
kagens  being  the  last  to  come  in.  There  was  blood  on 
his  hands  and  coat  and  he  reported  that  he  had  killed 
a  cow  moose.  Next  morning  camp  was  moved  to  the 
place  where  the  cow  was  lying,  and  the  day  was  spent 
by  Dyche  and  Brown  in  skinning  the  animal  and 
caring  for  the  specimen.  The  moose  had  frozen  solid, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  carry  the  legs  to  the  fire  and 
thaw  them  out  before  they  could  be  skinned. 

Dyche  found  that  a  small  hole  had  been  cut  in  the 
neck  of  the  cow  and  a  piece  of  tobacco  had  been  in- 
serted therein.  Gib  said  this  was  always  done,  but 
when  the  naturalist  asked  for  the  reason  and  why  a 
piece  of  the  moose  was  decorated  with  rags  or  stream- 


266  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

ers  and  hung  to  a  tree,  he  received  the  usual  shrug 
of  the  shoulders  and  the  reply  that  it  was  "  Indian." 

The  party  spent  a  week  in  this  locality,  but  it  was 
so  bitter  cold  that  little  game  was  found.  The  ther- 
mometer marked  twenty-eight  degrees  below  zero 
nearly  the  whole  time  that  they  were  in  the  woods. 
Many  small  fur-bearing  animals,  such  as  martens  and 
foxes,  were  killed,  and  the  Indians  appeared  fond  of  the 
flesh  of  the  former,  but  Dyche  found  that  it  was  very 
tough  and  tasted  like  an  old  rabbit.  In  addition  to  his 
other  apparel,  each  Indian  had  a  robe  made  from  the 
skins  of  the  white  snow-shoe  rabbits  which  were  found 
in  great  numbers  in  the  woods.  The  skins  were  cut 
into  strips  about  an  inch  wide,  the  strip  being  cut 
continuously  around  the  skin,  making  one  string. 
These  strings  are  then  made  into  a  triple  pleat,  or 
braid,  and  these  braids  are  sewed  together  as  thrifty 
housewives  sew  carpet-rags  into  rugs.  This  is  done 
until  the  robe  is  as  large  as  an  ordinary  blanket,  and 
the  Indians  then  have  a  warm  robe  in  which  they 
wrap  themselves  at  night. 

The  evenings  of  Indian  hunters  are  spent  much 
after  the  manner  of  white  hunters ;  stories  are  told 
and  jokes  passed,  while  laughter  is  frequent  and  pro- 
longed. AU  the  while  the  moose-meat  is  not  neg- 
lected, and  every  man  in  the  party  helps  himself  to 
delicacies.  From  an  Indian  point  of  view  the  finest 
tidbit  of  the  moose  is  a  piece  of  intestine,  nicely 
cooked  by  boiling.  The  intestines  are  stripped  and 
placed  in  a  pot,  where  they  are  boiled  until  they  as- 
sume the  appearance  of  huge  wrinkled  snakes.  The 
chief  then  passes  the  dish  around,  apportioning  a 


INDIAN  SUPERSTITIONS.  267 

share  to  each  member  of  the  party.  Dyche  was 
honoured  with  the  part  which  was  considered  the 
bonne  bouche,  and  after  he  got  it  he  was  in  a  quan- 
dary. He  did  not  like  to  refuse,  for  he  feared  he 
would  insult  the  chief,  yet  he  could  not  coax  his 
stomach  to  receive  the  morsel.  He  had  eaten  many 
Indian  dishes  much  against  his  will,  but  he  felt  that 
the  time  had  come  to  draw  the  line.  He  thankfully 
accepted  his  portion  and  then  began  to  devise 
a  way  of  escape.  Cutting  a  stick,  he  inserted  it  into 
the  delicacy  and  placed  it  before  the  fire  to  roast, 
telling  Gib  that  he  preferred  it  that  way.  He  was 
in  no  hurry  about  it,  and  by  the  time  it  was  well 
done  the  Indians  had  finished  eating  and  had 
scattered  through  the  woods.  Now  came  the  longed- 
for  opportunity,  and  as  the  last  Indian  turned  his 
back  the  stick  slipped  and  the  obnoxious  piece  feU 
into  the  fire,  where  it  was  soon  reduced  to  ashes. 

As  provisions,  excepting  moose-meat,  were  almost 
exhausted,  it  was  decided  to  return  to  the  spot  where 
the  toboggans  had  been  left  at  the  first  camp.  Moose- 
meat  is  good  eating,  but  the  white  men  found  that  it 
became  very  distasteful  when  there  was  nothing  to  go 
with  it.  Indians  eat  their  meat  without  salt,  but  when 
thej^  discovered  that  Dyche  carried  a  little  bag  of  salt 
in  his  pocket,  the  red  men  became  persistent  beggars 
for  it.  In  fact,  the  naturalist  discovered  that  there 
was  nothing  they  did  not  want  and  beg  for  when 
they  saw  others  have  it. 

When  the  packs  were  adjusted  and  the  party  was 
ready  to  start  back  Maypuck  motioned  to  Dyche  to 
lead  the  way.     The  latter  shook  his  head,  but  the  In- 


268  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

dians  stood  back  and  waited.  Gib  explained  that  if 
Dyche  did  not  lead  they  would  not  go  back  with  him. 
Thinking  that  he  had  another  superstition  to  contend 
with,  the  naturalist  took  the  lead  and  started  off  at  a 
rapid  gait.  The  Indians  carried  heavy  loads,  and  as 
Dyche  took  the  usual  dog-trot  on  the  trail  the  red 
men  followed  closely  in  his  tracks.  Dyche  was  a  lit- 
tle puzzled  at  first,  but  by  careful  watching  he  saw 
sufficient  signs  of  the  old  trail  to  convince  him  that 
he  was  taking  the  right  direction,  and  at  last,  when 
he  saw  traces  of  one  of  the  camps  at  the  edge  of  a 
moskeg,  he  began  to  increase  his  speed.  As  the 
Indians  had  had  so  much  sport  with  him  when 
they  first  left  the  village,  he  concluded  to  return  the 
compliment  and  show  what  a  white  man  could  do 
when  he  tried.  Faster  and  faster  he  went  until  he 
was  almost  running,  with  the  Indians  stringing  out 
in  single  file  behind  him. 

Looking  back  occasionally,  he  noticed  that  his  red 
companions  were  strung  out  for  fully  half  a  mile. 
May  puck  being  the  nearest,  two  hundred  yards  away. 
The  sight  so  encouraged  the  naturalist  that  he  put 
forth  an  extra  burst  of  speed  and  soon  had  the  sat- 
isfaction of  seeing  a  clear  track  behind  him  with 
not  an  Indian  in  sight.  He  dashed  across  the  clear- 
ing at  full  speed  and  reached  the  camp  with  only 
Maypuck  showing  at  the  edge  of  the  woods,  three 
hundred  yards  away,  and  coming  at  a  dead  run. 
Dyche  quickly  started  a  fire  and  began  heating 
water  in  his  tin  cup.  When  the  chief  reached  him 
the  water  was  hot,  and  the  hunter  poured  into  it  a 
quantity  of  extract  of  ginger.     This  he  drank  and 


A  POTENT  BEVERAGE.  269 

then  handed  the  bottle  and  cup  to  the  Indian,  who 
came  up  panting  and  perspiring.  The  chief  gave 
a  grunt  and  threw  his  pack  on  the  ground.  Taking 
the  proffered  cup  and  bottle,  he  set  the  cup  on  the 
ground  and  turned  the  bottle  to  his  lips,  swallowing 
half  its  contents  at  one  gulp.  He  returned  the 
bottle  with  a  sigh  and  said : 

"Nickoshin." 

Dyche  explained  by  signs  that  it  was  "  nickoshin  " 
for  Maypuck  but  not  for  the  others.  The  chief  un- 
derstood and  grinned,  and  said  not  a  word  about  the 
bottle  when  the  rest  of  the  party  came  stringing  in. 
As  a  reward  Dyche  afterwards  allowed  him  to  finish 
the  bottle.  Dyche  no  longer  wondered  at  the  ability 
of  an  Indian's  stomach  to  digest  cartilages  and  even 
small  bones,  for  a  stomach  that  could  stand  half  a 
bottle  of  strong  extract  of  ginger  at  one  swallow 
could  digest  almost  anything.  The  Indians  all  reached 
camp  at  last  and  fell  to  talking  and  gesticulating 
about  the  wonderfully  fast  walking  of  the  white 
man.  Not  one  of  them  showed  the  least  sign  of 
displeasure  at  the  incident,  but,  on  the  contrary,  they 
seemed  to  think  more  of  Dyche  for  his  great  endur- 
ance and  speed. 

The  party  had  now  been  out  two  weeks,  and  it  was 
decided  to  return  to  the  village.  The  toboggans  were 
loaded  and  hauled  within  ten  miles  of  the  lake  and 
then  unceremoniously  left  standing  on  the  trail,  while 
the  Indians  went  on  to  their  homes  and  sent  their 
squaws  to  bring  in  the  spoils  of  the  chase.  Dyche 
now  spent  his  time  preparing  his  specimens  for  ship- 
ment, and  meantime  he  was  constantly  surrounded 


270  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

by  an  admiring  crowd  of  Indians  of  all  ages  and 
conditions.  Dyche  was  not  disposed  to  drive  them 
away,  for  he  obtained  much  valuable  information  re- 
garding the  habits  of  the  moose.  It  was  a  new  and 
queer  experience  for  the  naturalist  to  sit  with  a  dozen 
Indians  and  Brown  and  talk  of  hunting  adventures 
through  the  medium  of  an  interpreter. 

The  moose  is  the  largest  member  of  the  deer  family 
and  the  most  awkward  in  appearance,  but  at  the  same 
time  he  is  the  wariest  and  shyest  of  them  all.  An 
old  cow  moose,  with  her  ugly  head  and  long  ears, 
looks  so  much  like  a  mule  that  new  hunters  frequent- 
ly let  it  go,  thinking  they  have  run  across  some 
trader's  stray  animal.  When  they  discover  their 
mistake  they  make  up  for  it  by  shooting  the  next 
mule  they  see,  under  the  supposition  that  it  is  a 
moose.  One  of  the  most  difficult  anatomical  construc- 
tions that  Dyche  ever  attempted  to  mount  was  the 
nose  of  a  moose.  It  consists  of  such  a  complication  of 
cartilaginous  boxes  and  partitions  as  to  present  many 
hard  problems  in  taxidermy.  The  general  colour  of  a 
moose,  when  seen  at  a  distance,  is  black,  but  on  closer 
inspection  it  is  found  to  be  tinged  with  red,  brown, 
and  gray  hairs,  the  black  changing  into  gray  and 
white  on  the  legs.  There  are  many  colour  varieties, 
some  being  very  dark  while  others- present  an  ashen 
appearance. 

Brown  told  much  about  the  moose  that  he  had 
learned  from  actual  experience,  while  Dyche  gave  in- 
formation gleaned  from  books,  supplemented  by  many 
of  his  own  adventures.  This  talk  was  interpreted 
to  the  other  Indians  by  Gib  and  the  red  men  were 


MOOSE  ALL  ""NICKOSHIN."  271 

gradually  drawn  into  the  conversation,  and  they  told 
strange  tales  of  the  habits  and  characteristics  of  the 
big  animal. 

"I  saw  an  article"  in  a  paper  the  other  day,"  said 
Brown,  "  which  gave  pictures  of  the  European  elk. 
That  animal  looked  just  like  our  moose.  Do  they 
call  moose,  elk,  over  there?" 

"Yes,"  was  Dyche's  reply.  "The  European  elk 
corresponds  to  our  moose.  They  are  very  near 
cousins,  but  our  moose  is  larger  and  averages  darker 
in  colour.  The  horns  of  the  American  moose  are  said 
to  be  more  palmated  than  those  of  the  European  or 
Norwegian  elk." 

"  Moose  are  found  all  through  the  northern  part  of 
the  country,  are  they  not?"  asked  Brown. 

"  They  formerly  ranged  over  a  vast  tract  of  coun- 
try, from  ocean  to  ocean  and  from  the  northern  bor- 
der of  the  United  States  to  the  Alaskan  line,  where 
he  is  still  common  along  the  Yukon  River  and  many 
of  its  tributaries.  They  feed  on  the  leaves  and  small 
twigs  of  the  trees.  I  never  saw  grass  or  moss  in  the 
stomach  of  moose." 

"Moose  eat  coarse  grass  sometimes,"  interjected 
Maypuck,  who  had  been  following  the  conversation 
closely. 

"Maybe  that's  so,"  said  Dyche,  "but  I've  never 
found  any  grass  in  the  stomachs  of  any  that  we  have 
killed.  In  the  summer  they  eat  leaves  and  tender 
branches  and  in  winter  they  nip  off  the  ends  of  limbs 
of  willows  and  birch  and  sometimes  strip  off  the 
bark.  The  contents  of  the  stomach  of  a  moose  in 
winter  looks  like  sawdust.     They  may  eat  sparingly 


273  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

of  the  coarser  grass,  but  I  have  never  seen  any  indi- 
cations that  they  do." 

"There's  one  thing  sure,"  said  Brown;  "they  are 
the  wildest  animal  that  a  man  ever  attempted  to 
hunt." 

"White  man  don't  know  how  to  hunt,"  said  May- 
puck.  "White  man  scare  moose  away;  Indian 
crawl  up  and  kill  him." 

"The  great  trouble  appears  to  be  to  get  within 
shooting  range  of  the  animal.  I  have  followed  them 
through  the  snow  many  times,  and  always  found  that 
they  had  doubled  back  on  their  track  and  lain  down 
where  they  could  see  anyone  coming  on  the  trail. 
When  I  got  back  to  where  the  animal  lay  hidden 
it  saw  or  smelled  me  at  once  and  went  out  of  the 
country.  Indians  do  not  seem  to  have  any  trouble 
getting  them,  yet  they  are  not  good  shots  and  are 
armed  with  old  shot-guns  usually,  which  a  white 
man  would  not  carry  with  him.  I  know  that  their 
weapons  are  not  good  for  over  forty  yards,  yet  they 
get  the  game  just  the  same." 

"Indian  know  how  to  hunt  him,"  said  Kakagens. 
"  Indian  no  follow  trail  close  like  white  man.  In- 
dian go  'way  off  and  crawl  up  close.  See  moose  lay 
down,  shoot  him  in  side.  Moose  smell  good,  see 
good.  He  walk  way  wind  comes,  walk  back  on  trail, 
lay  down  see  white  man  coming.  Indian  no  follow, 
he  go  round,  crawl  up  at  side  and  shoot  moose.  White 
man  in  a  big  hurry  and  scare  moose.  Indian  hunt 
him  two,  three  days. " 

"I  guess  that's  so,"  said  Dyche.  "I  found  that 
their  beds  were  always  made  where  they  could  look 


MOOSE  ALL  ""NICKOSHIN/'  273 

back  on  the  trail,  through  an  open  place,  with  the  wind 
at  their  back.  They  appeared  to  have  walked  back 
on  the  trail  to  where  they  could  see  a  man  if  he  was 
following  them  and  smell  him  if  he  came  up  the  other 
way.  This  nose,  which  has  been  puzzling  me  so  much, 
appears  to  be  made  for  the  express  purpose  of  smelling 
everything  in  the  country.  Sometimes,  however,  the 
moose  gets  *  rattled '  and  does  not  seem  to  know  which 
way  to  run.  Sometimes  they  will  stand  until  they 
are  shot  at  three  or  four  times.  How  many  calves 
have  you  seen  with  one  cow.  Brown?"  asked  Dyche. 

"  I  have  seen  many  old  cows  with  two  calves  and 
the  Indians  have  told  me  that  they  have  seen  cows 
with  three  calves.  The  young  cows  have  one  calf, 
but  the  older  and  larger  cows  generally  have  two. 
The  calves  are  born  about  the  time  poplar  trees  have 
leaves  the  size  of  squirrels'  ears.  There  is  one  thing 
that  somewhat  puzzles  me,"  continued  Brown,  "and 
that  is,  what  becomes  of  the  horns  of  the  moose, 
which  are  shed  every  year.  Big  bull  moose  have 
horns  like  the  tops  of  trees,  yet  I  have  found  but  few 
horns  that  had  been  shed,  and  I  have  been  all  through 
the  woods  during  January  and  February,  which  is 
the  time  they  are  shed." 

"  Moose  cover  horns  up,"  said  Maypuck.  "  Moose 
paw  moss,  dirt,  sticks,  and  snow  on  horns." 

"  Those  same  horns  are  mighty  queer,"  said  Brown. 
"  It  seems  to  me  that  no  two  sets  are  alike." 

"Well,  you  are  about  right  there,"  replied  the  nat- 
uralist. "  Moose  horns  are  very  irregular.  I  have 
eighteen  sets  and  they  would  furnish  material  for  a 
small  book  on  the  subject." 


274  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

"  There  is  one  thing  about  the  moose  that  is  always 
the  same,"  said  Brown,  "and  that  is  that  there  is  no 
part  of  him  that  is  lost  when  an  Indian  gets  hold  of 
him." 

"Moose  nickoshin,"  replied  Kakagens.  "Meat 
good,  nose  good,  skin  good,  bone  good,  all  heap  good." 

Dyche  had  already  discovered  that  this  assertion 
was  correct,  for  none  of  the  animals  which  had  been 
killed  had  been  wasted.  The  head  is  prized  as  an 
especial  delicacy.  The  muflOle  is  tender  and  even 
more  sweet  and  delicate  than  a  beaver's  tail.  Jerked 
moose-meat  is  much  prized  by  the  Indian  and  is  simi- 
lar to  jerked  buffalo-meat,  but  is  not  so  tough.  The 
hides  make  strong  buckskins,  from  which  the  Indians 
make  moccasins.  A  large  hide  will  make  from  twelve 
to  fifteen  pair  of  moccasins,  which  are  sold  at  a  dollar 
and  a  half  a  pair.  Hides  of  foetal  moose  are  much 
sought  after  by  the  Indians,  who  use  them  for  mak- 
ing tobacco-pouches  or  tea-bags. 

Moose-stories  appeared  to  be  the  only  subject  that 
any  of  the  party  could  do  justice  to,  and  every  night 
the  circle  around  the  fire  in  the  cabin  was  regaled 
with  something  fresh  about  the  animal.  In  reply  to 
a  remark  about  "  yarding, "  which  is  frequently 
described  by  Eastern  writers,  the  Indians  said  that 
they  had  never  seen  more  than  seven  or  eight  to- 
gether in  a  band.  As  to  the  stories  of  hundreds  of 
them  assembled  in  a  "yard,"  which  is  said  to  happen 
in  Maine,  the  Indians  shook  their  heads  most  ener- 
getically and  said  they  had  never  seen  it. 

The  season  was  now  far  advanced,  December  being 
half  gone.     The  time  for  big  snows  had  come,  and 


RETURN  TO  CIVILISATION.  275 

Dyche  concluded  that  it  would  be  well  to  get  back  to 
civilisation,  where  he  could  be  in  communication  with 
home.  Selling  his  ponies  to  a  trader,  he  loaded  his 
camp  outfit  and  specimens  on  the  wagon  of  a  Dane 
who  had  come  in  after  a  load  of  fish  and  returned  to 
Warren.  There  he  found  a  number  of  letters  from 
home,  all  telling  of  the  illness  of  his  boy.  This  news 
caused  him  to  cut  short  his  visit  and  hurry  home, 
which  he  reached  just  six  months  after  his  departure 
in  June. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

In  Colorado— On  the  Trail  of  Elk— A  Night  in  the  Snow- 
Deer,  but  no  Elk— Another  Wild-Goose  Chase— The 
World's  Fair  King— The  Last  Hunt. 

I  EVEN  months  had  passed  since  the  re- 
turn of  the  naturalist  from  the  swamps  of 
Manitoba — seven  months  of  hard  and 
wearing  labor  in  workshop,  laboratory, 
and  class-room.  The  wind  blowing  through  the 
trees  of  the  university  campus  whispered  enticing 
invitations  to  Dyche  to  lay  aside  again,  for  a  brief 
period,  his  routine  tasks  and  renew  his  energies 
by  a  sojourn  in  the  mountains.  With  the  invitation 
came  thoughts  of  those  who  were  his  companions  in 
the  Cascades,  and  later  he  received  two  letters  from 
these  friends  urging  him  to  meet  them  in  Denver  and 
go  with  them  to  the  mountains. 

"  Join  us  if  possible, "  wrote  the  judge.  "  We  want 
to  be  in  the  expedition  that  secures  the  big  bull  elk. 
We  were  with  you  when  you  secured  the  magnificent 
collection  in  British  Columbia,  and  we  think  we  can 
take  you  where  you  can  get  a  World's  Fair  king. 
We  can  get  Jim  [Jim  Kennicott,  of  Delta,  Col.].  We 
had  him  last  year  and  know  him  to  be  the  right  man. 
We  have  engaged  him  and  six  horses  for  ourselves, 
and  the  party  will  be  complete  with  you.  Shall  we 
engage  horses  for  you?" 

276 


A  mountain  king. 


IN  COLORADO.  277 

It  only  needed  the  stimulus  of  such  a  letter  as  this 
to  cause  the  naturalist  to  drop  all  hesitation,  and  a 
month  later,  September  2 2d,  Dyche,  with  the  judge 
and  doctor,  started  from  Denver  and  met  Jim,  with 
his  band  of  twelve  horses,  at  Glenwood  Springs.  No 
time  was  lost  here,  and  the  train  was  moving  up  the 
trail  that  same  afternoon. 

For  three  hours  the  party  climbed  the  mountain, 
but  saw  no  sign  of  the  cow-trail  which  had  been 
indicated  as  a  place  to  turn  aside  for  wood  and 
water  and  a  good  camping-place  for  the  night. 
After  nine  o'clock  a  pond  was  found,  and  here  the 
train  was  stopped  and  camp  pitched.  While  the 
judge  and*  Jim  arranged  the  tent  the  doctor  and 
Dyche  went  foraging  for  fuel,  and  soon  returned  to 
camp  dragging  what  they  supposed  to  be  the  top  of 
a  dead  tree.  When  the  supposed  wood  was  thrown 
on  the  fire  it  was  discovered  that  the  dried  bones  of  a 
horse  would  not  burn,  and  a  hearty  laugh  went  round 
at  the  expense  of  the  professor  of  anatomy  and  the 
physician  who  could  not  tell  bones  from  wood.  Nor 
did  the  joke  fail  to  keep  throughout  the  expedition. 

Supper  was  followed  by  those  countless  tales  of 
hunting  adventure  which  are  best  told  by  the  blaz- 
ing camp-fire  beneath  the  mountain  pines.  All  next 
day  they  travelled  through  a  beautiful  mountain 
country  until  five  in  the  afternoon,  when  a  little 
park,  in  the  middle  of  which  stood  two  tall  pines, 
was  reached.  Here  was  an  ideal  spot  for  a  camp. 
That  ubiquitous  tin  can,  evidence  of  the  march 
of  civilisation,  was  found,  and  near  the  centre  of 
the  park  was  a  miniature  monument  composed  of 


278  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

the  cans,  bottles,  and  other  relies  of  a  party  of  camp- 
ers. Rain  and  snow  were  falling  when  the  tent  was 
pitched,  but  such  vagaries  of  the  climate  are  unnoticed 
by  true  woodsmen,  and  after  banking  and  draining 
the  tent  the  safely  ensconced  party  were  soon  telling 
their  stories  and  cracking  their  harmless  jokes  at 
each  other's  expense.  The  doctor  and  judge  had  tried 
a  cast  in  the  little  stream,  but  trout  were  shy,  and 
they  were  unsuccessful  in  their  efforts.  Two  fine 
bull  elk  had  been  seen  crossing  the  park,  and  this 
was  sufficient  indication  that  the  hunters  were  now 
in  the  elk  country. 

Marvine  Lake,  twelve  miles  farther  on,  was 
reached  next  day  in  a  blinding  snow-storm.  Here 
one  little  trout  was  caught  after  the  doctor  and  the 
judge  had  whipped  the  stream  until  their  arms 
ached.  There  appeared  to  be  many  fish  in  the  .water, 
but  they  were  not  anxious  to  try  the  flies  which  were 
cast  over  them.  Another  day  through  rain  and 
snow  carried  the  party  to  a  spot  where  the  snow  was 
cleared  off  sufficiently  to  permit  the  tent  to  be  raised. 
While  the  judge  and  Jim  were  getting  a  fire  and 
supper  the  naturalist  and  the  doctor  went  hunting. 
They  soon  returned  empty-handed,  but  with  great 
stories  of  the  deer  they  had  seen  and  shot  at. 

At  nine  o'clock  next  morning  the  sun  was  shining 
and  the  pack-train  was  wending  its  way  down  Mar- 
vine  River  towards  White  River,  which  was  reached 
shortly  after  noon.  Here  the  horses  varied  the  en- 
tei-tainment  by  giving  an  exhibition  of  what  they 
could  do  in  the  way  of  bucking  off  the  packs.  One 
started  it,  and  the  contagion  spread  until  five  of  them 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  ELK.  279 

were  rolling,  bucking,  and  kicking  at  one  time  and 
the  packs  were  in  danger  of  complete  demoralisation. 

"  Catch  old  Blackey !  catch  old  Blackey !"  excitedly- 
called  the  judge  as  he  ran  breathlessly  around  the 
pitching  and  kicking  squad. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Blackey?"  was  the  ques- 
tion as  the  other  members  of  the  quartette  ran  to  his 
assistance. 

"  Why,  the  raspberry  jam  and  pickles  are  in  his 
pack." 

The  fears  of  the  judge  were  only  too  well  founded, 
for  the  jam  and  pickles  became  badly  mixed,  and  the 
only  consolation  that  was  afforded  the  judge  in  his 
misfortune  was  the  remark  from  the  doctor  that "  they 
are  all  the  better  for  that."  This,  however,  did  not 
meet  the  unqualified  approval  of  the  judge,  who  at 
once  laid  down  a  little  law  as  to  the  conduct  of  the 
expedition.  It  took  a  full  hour  to  get  matters 
straightened  out  and  all  the  rest  of  the  day  for  the 
members  of  the  party  fully  to  express  their  opinions 
of  the  episode. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day 
the  party  reached  a  spot  in  the  heart  of  the  moun- 
tains near  Pagoda  Peak  which  seemed  suitable  for 
a  prolonged  stay.  After  dinner  Jim  undertook 
to  arrange  the  camp  while  the  others  went  out  to 
look  for  elk.  The  judge  went  east  and  the  doctor 
north,  while  Dyche  went  through  the  heavy  for- 
est and  brush  to  the  northwest.  After  about  two 
miles  of  slow  travel,  he  found  the  fresh  track  of  an 
elk  and  began  stalking  carefully.  While  moving 
silently  through  the  underbrush  he  heard  the  animal 

19 


280  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST, 

start  and  run.  Peering  cautiously  from  his  place  of 
concealment,  he  saw  it  going  at  full  speed  up  a  ridge 
about  four  hundred  yards  away.  Wondering  what 
had  startled  the  elk,  the  naturalist  went  to  the  spot 
where  it  had  been  standing  and  found  the  doctor's 
tracks.  The  animal  had  evidently  seen  or  heard  the 
hunter  and  had  not  waited  to  investigate.  Darkness 
now  came  on  and  Dyche  returned  to  camp,  where  he 
found  the  doctor  and  Jim,  but  the  judge  had  not  been 
heard  from.  Supper  passed  and  still  no  judge,  and 
then  signal-shots  were  fired.  For  an  hour  this  was 
continued,  and  then  the  answer  was  heard  and  soon 
the  missing  man  put  in  an  appearance,  almost  dead 
from  fatigue.  He  could  barely  walk,  but  was  wild 
with  bull-elk  fever. 

"See  that  blood?"  he  asked,  holding  up  a  snow- 
ball on  which  were  stains  of  red.  "  That  came  from 
a  bull  elk  which  I  shot." 

"Did  you  kill  him?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  tried  to.  I  saw  two  bulls  and 
tried  to  down  one  of  them.  I  shot  twice  and  then 
followed  the  bloody  trail  until  dark.  If  I  had  not 
heard  you  shoot  I  would  not  have  seen  this  camp 
to-night." 

After  a  hasty  breakfast  next  morning  the  whole 
party  started  out  to  help  the  judge  find  his  elk. 
Dyche  soon  separated  from  the  others  and  followed 
the  fresh  track  of  a  mountain  lion.  The  animal 
was  going  straight  north  towards  Pagoda  Peak. 
At  one  place  in  the  snow  was  a  spot  where  the  lion 
had  made  a  short  run  followed  by  several  short 
jumps  and  then  a  long  spring  of  at  least  thirty  feet. 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  ELK.  281 

He  had  been  after  a  deer,  but  the  tracks  in  the  snow 
showed  that  he  had  missed  his  dinner. 

The  naturalist  now  climbed  to  the  top  of  Pagoda 
Peak,  a  great  dome-shaped  mountain  with  steps,  or 
benches,  on  all  sides,  and  took  a  survey  of  the  coun- 
try. All  around  him  were  mountains  with  valleys 
between.  A  band  of  about  a  dozen  elk  had  been 
there  before  him,  leaving  their  fresh  tracks  in  the 
snow.  According  to  Jim,  it  is  the  habit  of  elk 
to  climb  to  the  top  of  the  highest  peak  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood and  survey  the  whole  country,  locating  the 
fires  of  hunters  and  then  laying  their  plans  for  the 
day  in  such  manner  that  they  would  keep  away  from 
their  enemies. 

The  clouds,  which  had  been  growing  heavier  all 
the  morning,  were  now  sending  down  snow.  Dyche 
followed  along  the  ridge  for  two  or  three  miles,  and 
during  a  lull  in  the  storm  saw  a  band  of  elk  feed- 
ing in  a  grassy  park  down  the  mountain-side.  The 
wind  was  blowing  directly  towards  the  animals,  but 
the  hunter  determined  to  get  close  to  the  band,  if 
possible,  and  made  a  long  stalk  around  to  the  other 
side  of  the  park.  Reaching  a  spot  within  a  hun- 
dred yards  of  them,  he  lay  hidden  and  began  an 
examination  with  his  field-glass.  There  were  eleven 
in  all,  one  young  bull  and  the  others  cows  and 
calves.  The  bull  had  a  perfect  set  of  horns,  but  as 
the  beams  were  light  and  the  animal  of  only  ordi- 
nary size,  the  naturalist  determined  to  let  this  band 
go  and  trust  to  the  future  to  get  the  exact  animal 
that  was  wanted.  For  two  hours  he  lay  in  the 
snow,  making    notes  of    the  movements   and  pos- 


282  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

tures  of  the  animals.  He  noted  the  carriage  of  the 
head  and  neck  and  ears  and  got  a  good  idea  of  the 
appearance  of  the  elk  at  home.  One  old  cow  grazed 
to  within  fifty  yards  of  Dyche  and  then  lay  down 
and  chewed  her  cud.  Then  the  bull  walked  over 
that  way  and  stood  even  closer.  The  temptation 
to  shoot  was  very  great,  but  the  naturalist  resisted 
it.  Suddenly  three  other  elk  trotted  into  the  park, 
seemingly  under  some  excitement,  which  was  com* 
municated  to  the  band  and  the  whole  lot  went  out 
of  the  opening  at  a  round  trot,  moving  off  up  the 
mountain  and  making  a  beautiful  picture. 

A  depressed  feeling  came  over  Dyche  as  he  saw 
the  band  going  away,  and  he  felt  as  though  some- 
thing, he  knew  not  what,  had  gone  wrong.  Return- 
ing to  camp  he  found  the  doctor  there,  but  the  judge 
and  Jim  were  nowhere  in  sight  or  within  earshot. 
The  doctor  was  sure  the  men  were  lost,  as  they  were 
still  going  north  through  the  heavy  snow-storm  when 
he  had  left  them  early  in  the  afternoon. 

"We  gave  up  that  elk  after  travelling  through 
heavy  forests  and  much  down  timber,  and  I  came 
back  to  Pagoda  Peak  and  got  my  bearings  while  they 
kept  going.  They  will  have  trouble  before  they  see 
camp  again.  But  it's  all  the  better  for  that.  Jim 
knows  the  mountains  and  the  judge  will  learn  after 
a  few  more  experiences." 

The  doctor's  prediction  was  verified,  for  several 
hours  passed  with  no  sign  of  either  of  the  missing 
men.  Signal-shots  were  fired  at  intervals  and  finally 
an  answer  was  heard,  and  then  the  judge  came  stum- 
bling into  camp  about  ten  o'clock.     He  was  greatly 


A  NIGHT  IN  THE  SNOW.  28S 

exhausted,  and  it  took  the  doctor  and  Dyche  half  an 
hour  to  bring  him  around  to  his  normal  condition. 
A  pint  of  coffee  and  a  warm  supper,  however,  helped 
materially.  The  judge  had  been  thoroughly  be- 
wildered in  the  storm  and  lost  all  bearings.  Ho 
had  become  separated  from  Jim  and  did  not  know 
where  the  latter  was.  The  continued  absence  of 
the  hunter  caused  much  uneasiness,  and  signal- 
shots  were  fired  until  long  after  midnight  with 
no  response  from  the  guide.  Morning  dawned  upon 
an  uneasy  trio.  Jim  had  not  returned,  and  it  was 
now  feared  that  he  might  be  lying  somewhere  out  on 
the  bleak  mountain  badly  hurt. 

The  doctor  and  Dyche  were  just  preparing  to  make 
a  search  of  the  mountains  when  Jim  arrived,  too 
tired  to  talk.  He  presented  a  most  woe-begone  ap- 
pearance and  was  completely  worn  out  with  the  ex- 
ertions of  the  previous  night.  He  was  so  far  gone 
that  his  face  had  assumed  a  deep  copper  colour  and 
his  hands  trembled  from  the  strain.  A  cup  of  hot 
coffee,  dry  stockings  and  shoes,  and  careful  attention 
revived  him  somewhat,  and  then  the  doctor  said  it 
would  be  safe  to  feed  him.  Jim  had  been  fasting  for 
twenty-four  hours,  and  he  soon  showed  that  his  ex- 
haustion did  not  extend  to  his  appetite.  Hot  coffee, 
warm  biscuit,  and  venison  soon  refreshed  him  and 
he  was  ready  to  tell  the  story  of  his  night's  adven- 
tures. 

"Nobody  knows  where  I  stayed  last  night,"  he 
said.  "  I  must  have  travelled  over  a  hundred  miles. 
I  kept  going  as  long  as  I  could  hold  out  and  then 
made  a  fire  and  sat  up  with  my  back  to  a  tree  until 


284  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

morning.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  professor's 
heavy  Norwegian  jacket  I  should  have  frozen.  I'd 
have  given  ten  dollars  for  a  cup  of  coffee  this  morn- 
ing." 

"I  think  you'd  better  adopt  my  plan,"  said  the 
professor,  "  if  you  are  going  to  get  caught  away  from 
camp  much  more.  I  always  take  a  little  coffee  or  tea 
in  my  haversack,  with  a  cup  and  a  few  biscuit.  If 
you  would  do  that  you  could  always  make  yourself 
at  least  half-way  comfortable  when  you  are  caught 
out." 

"I've  got  a  better  plan  than  that,"  was  the  reply. 
"You  can  punish  me  if  you  ever  see  me  out  of  sight 
of  this  camp  again  while  we  are  on  this  expedition, 
unless  I'm  after  the  horses." 

"  Do  you  know  what  the  professor  and  I  have  de- 
cided to  do  with  you  and  the  judge?"  asked  the 
doctor. 

"  It  would  be  hard  to  tell  what  you'd  do." 

"  We've  decided  to  put  a  bell  on  you  and  hobble 
the  judge,  and  then  we'll  not  have  so  much  trouble 
worrying  over  you  tramps." 

"  Well,  I  believe  it  would  be  a  good  scheme,  and 
if  you  ever  catch  me  out  of  sight  of  camp  again  you 
can  bell  me,"  said  Jim. 

The  judge  had  been  silently  dressing  his  bruised 
feet  during  this  conversation,  and  now  held  up  his 
ankle,  which  showed  marks  similar  to  those  on  a 
hobbled  horse,  and  remarked : 

"  See  there !  that  foot  looks  as  if  it  had  been  wear- 
ing hobbles  for  a  week,  and  I'm  sure  it  will  hobble 
for  a  week  more." 


DEER,    BUT  NO  ELK.  285 

As  it  had  taken  forty-six  shots  to  bring  in  the 
men,  the  camp  was  called  Camp  Forty-six,  and  then 
three  days  were  spent  in  rounding  up  the  horses  and 
waiting  for  the  judge  and  Jim  to  become  able  to  travel. 
So  much  shooting  had  scared  the  game  from  that 
immediate  vicinity,  and  it  was  decided  to  find  new 
hunting-grounds. 

A  day's  journey  over  mountains  difficult  of  as- 
cent carried  the  party  across  the  range.  Just  before 
they  reached  a  suitable  camping-place  a  young  buck 
jumped  up  and  started  to  run,  but  a  bullet  from 
Dyche's  rifle  cut  short  its  career.  A  day  was  now 
spent  in  examining  the  country  for  signs  of  elk.  A 
trip  of  eight  or  ten  miles  west,  through  a  section  in- 
terspersed with  numerous  little  grassy  parks,  showed 
that  few  hunters  ever  reached  this  part  of  the  moun- 
tains. Deer  stood  in  herds,  almost  as  gentle  as  do- 
mestic cattle.  More  than  a  hundred  were  seen  in  half 
a  day,  and  the  presence  of  man  did  not  appear  to  dis- 
turb them  in  the  least.  As  Dyche  was  not  after  deer 
he  did  not  kill  any,  but  devoted  much  time  to  watch- 
ing their  actions  and  pose  as  they  stood  or  fed  in 
the  parks. 

As  there  were  few  signs  of  elk  it  was  determined 
to  retrace  the  trail  over  which  they  came  and 
return  to  the  country  north  of  Pagoda  Peak.  The 
horses  got  through  the  forest  with  great  difficulty 
owing  to  the  snow,  which  caused  them  to  slip  and 
stumble.  The  progress  was  slow,  but  a  beautiful  lit- 
tle park  was  finally  reached.  It  was  hidden  away  in 
the  mountains  and  was  an  ideal  spot  for  a  camp. 
The  tent  was  pitched  and  preparations  were  made  for 


386  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

a  long  stay.  All  were  up  early  next  morning,  and  as 
soon  as  breakfast  was  finished  all  except  Jim  went 
on  a  hunt  for  elk.  The  doctor  and  Dyche  returned, 
unsuccessful,  about  noon,  but  the  judge  did  not  come 
in.  His  feet  were  still  in  poor  shape  for  travelling, 
and  he  had  intended  to  make  but  a  short  hunt. 
Jim  now  began  to  worry  over  his  absence,  and 
as  the  afternoon  wore  on  with  no  return  of  the  wan- 
derer, the  uneasiness  was  shared  by  the  natural- 
ist and  the  doctor.  The  latter  walked  along  the 
base  of  Pagoda  Peak  in  the  direction  taken  by 
the  judge,  while  Dyche  went  down  a  small  stream 
along  the  valley.  A  little  curling  smoke  about  a  mile 
below  attracted  the  attention  of  the  naturalist,  and, 
in  the  hope  that  it  might  be  the  judge  camped  for  the 
night,  he  made  his  way  to  it,  reaching  the  place  after 
dark.  There  was  a  deserted  camp-fire  smouldering  at 
the  end  of  a  log,  while  a  few  spruce  boughs  piled 
against  a  tree  indicated  that  someone  had  spent  a 
night  there  not  long  before.  After  an  examination 
Dyche  became  convinced  that  this  was  the  spot  where 
Jim  bad  spent  the  night  when  he  had  walked  that 
"hundred  miles."  His  surmise  was  proven  correct 
when  Jim  afterwards  saw  the  place  and  recognised  it. 
Not  a  sign  of  the  judge  could  be  found,  and  it  was 
with  a  feeling  of  great  anxiety  that  preparations  were 
made  for  the  night.  Signal-shots  were  fired  at  inter- 
vals until  midnight,  but  there  was  no  response. 
Morning  dawned  upon  a  trio  of  very  anxious  hunt- 
ers. A  council  of  war  was  held,  and  it  was  decided 
that  a  general  search  should  be  made  if  the  missing 
man  did  not  return  by  eleven  o'clock.     Dyche  could 


ANOTHER  WILD-GOOSE  CHASE.  287 

not  rest  until  that  time,  and  so  he  took  his  gun  and 
went  for  a  short  hunt.  As  he  returned  he  recognised 
the  judge's  familiar  form  seated  by  the  fire.  The 
judge  said  he  had  been  out  in  the  woods  listening  to 
a  bull  elk  bugling. 

"  I  went  to  the  top  of  the  peak,  and  after  taking  a 
good  look  at  the  country  started  back  to  camp.  I 
got  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  ridge  and  went  about 
three  miles  northeast,  when  I  should  have  gone  north- 
west. About  the  time  I  discovered  that  I  was  going 
wrong  I  heard  a  bull  elk  blowing  his  bugle  down  in 
the  valley,  and  this  made  me  forget  everything  else. 
I  followed  the  noise  but  failed  to  obtain  a  glimpse  of 
the  animal,  and  by  that  time  it  was  growing  dark.  I 
was  in  a  deep  spruce  forest,  and  you  know  how  easy  it 
is  to  get  mixed  up  in  such  a  place.  My  feet  were  in 
such  a  condition  that  I  did  not  propose  to  go  wander- 
ing around  in  the  dark.  I  was  not  lost,  but  just  too 
tired  to  go  to  camp.  I  made  me  a  bed  and  kept  the 
owls  company  for  the  rest  of  the  night.  That  elk 
was  bugling  all  night  long.  When  daylight  came 
I  went  back  to  the  top  of  the  peak  and  soon  located 
camp." 

"That's  a  good  story,"  said  the  doctor,  "but  he 
don't  tell  all  of  it.  Jim  and  I  started  out  for  Pagoda 
Peak  this  morning,  thinking  we  might  find  the  judge. 
We  had  gone  but  a  little  way  when  we  saw  a  man 
crawling  along.  We  at  once  thought  that  the  judge 
had  been  badly  hurt  and  had  been  crawling  back  to 
camp  all  night.  We  soon  found,  however,  that  the 
man  was  making  a  stalk  on  one  of  the  horses,  and  if 
we  had  not  rushed  up  just  in  time  he  would  have 


288  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

shot  one,  sure.  We  disarmed  him  and  brought  him 
to  camp,  where  venison  steak,  hot  coffee  and  biscuit 
soon  brought  back  his  reason.  But  he's  all  the  bet- 
ter for  that.  There's  many  a  worse  man  than  the 
judge — in  the  penitentiary." 

"Begorra,  I  can't  say  as  much  for  the  doctor," 
was  the  judge's  sole  reply. 

Snow  fell  all  day  Sunday  and  the  day  was  spent  in 
camp.  Monday  found  a  fine  "tracking"  snow  on 
the  ground.  Dyche  was  anxious  for  a  hunt,  but  the 
other  members  of  the  party  were  anxious  to  get  away 
from  "Lost  Park,"  as  the  place  had  been  named. 
The  altitude  was  too  high  and  camp  was  too  hard  to 
find  to  suit  them.  As  Dyche  had  brought  them  into 
the  place  it  fell  to  him  to  get  them  out.  The  train 
was  packed  and  started,  the  naturalist  in  the  lead. 
A  lion's  track  in  the  snow  was  too  great  a  temptation 
to  resist,  and  the  leader  of  the  cavalcade  followed  off 
after  the  beast.  A  short  distance  farther  on  an  elk 
winded  him  and  started  through  the  woods.  The 
tracks  indicated  that  it  was  a  big  bull,  and  as  that 
was  just  what  he  had  come  for,  he  took  up  the 
new  trail.  Feeling  that  the  other  members  of  the 
party  would  understand  his  purpose  when  they  saw 
his  tracks  crossing  those  of  the  elk,  he  started  to 
hunt  it  Indian  fashion,  as  he  had  been  taught  in 
the  swamps  at  the  Lake  of  the  Woods.  Taking  up 
a  line  about  two  hundred  yards  to  the  leeward, 
Dyche  slipped  along  through  the  woods  towards 
a  point  where  he  was  confident  the  animal  would 
cross  to  the  other  side  of  the  canon.  Going  carefully 
to  the  bottom  of  the  canon,  he  went  towards  the  trail 


THE  WORLD'S  FAIR  KING.  289 

and  found  where  the  bull  had  crossed  over.  On  a 
little  hill  were  signs  that  the  bull  had  stopped 
and  looked  back  over  his  trail  and  then,  seeing  that 
he  was  not  followed,  had  moved  off  more  leisurely. 
A  long  grove  of  quaking  asps  led  up  the  side  of  the 
mountain  along  a  branch  of  the  Williams  River, 
and  up  this  branch  Dyche  crept,  carefully,  towards  a 
grove.  Just  as  he  raised  his  head  to  take  a  look  be- 
tween the  trees  the  elk  started  at  a  round  trot. 
Quickly  throwing  the  Winchester  forwards,  the  nat- 
uralist sent  a  ball  after  the  animal,  which  had  the 
effect  of  accelerating  its  pace.  A  second  shot  was 
fired  which  caused  the  bull  to  break  into  a  run.  Now 
it  came  into  plain  view  and  a  third  shot  was  fired. 
With  the  report  the  animal  disappeared  over  the 
ridge. 

Hastening  to  the  spot  where  the  elk  was  last  seen, 
Dyche  found  the  magnificent  creature  lying  dead. 
He  was  a  grand  specimen  and  well  fitted  to  lead  the 
group  which  had  been  begun  for  the  World's  Fair. 
His  standing  height  was  just  sixty-three  inches,  while 
his  girth  was  seventy -five  inches  just  behind  the  shoul- 
der. His  girth  about  the  abdomen  measured  eighty- 
three  inches.  He  was  not  phenomenal  in  size  or 
length  of  horns,  but  his  proportions  were  perfect  and 
his  skin  was  at  its  very  best,  being  especially  rich  in 
colour.  By  the  time  the  other  members  of  the  party 
reached  the  spot  all  the  measurements  had  been  taken 
and  the  naturalist  was  skinning  his  prize.  As  the 
pack-train  came  in  sight  the  doctor  gave  a  cheer.  His 
first  question  showed  what  was  uppermost  in  every- 
one's mind. 


290  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

"  Is  he  a  World's  Fair  king?" 

An  affirmative  answer  brought  out  a  chorus  of 
hurrahs  and  a  storm  of  congratulations.  The  pack- 
train  was  stopped  and  everyone  assisted  in  skinning 
the  elk.  There  was  a  little  blood  in  the  animal's 
mouth,  but  not  a  bullet-hole  could  be  found  in  the 
skin  anywhere.  Thereupon  Dyche  was  subjected  to 
much  chaffing  for  scaring  an  elk  to  death.  These 
quizzing  remarks  continued  until  it  was  found  that 
a  bullet  had  passed  directly  through  the  heart.  The 
glory  of  the  exploit  was  enhanced  a  short  time  after, 
when  the  naturalist  shot  a  badger  without  drawing 
blood ;  the  bullet  struck  the  rock  directly  under  the 
animal,  killing  it  by  the  concussion. 

Camp  was  made  two  miles  farther  east  on  the 
north  branch  of  Williams  River.  A  high  mountain 
rose  to  the  north.  To  the  west  was  the  range  over 
which  they  had  just  come  and  which  was  made  beau- 
tiful by  the  vast  forests  of  spruce  and  fir.  To  the 
east  and  SQuth  the  country  opened  out  into  a  valley, 
giving  a  view  of  ten  or  fifteen  miles  of  changing 
lights  and  shades  through  the  openings  in  the  moun- 
tains. The  judge  at  once  christened  the  place  Camp 
Grand  View. 

Next  day,  while  Dyche  was  preparing  the  skeleton 
of  his  specimen,  the  doctor,  who  had  accompanied 
him,  rambled  off  on  a  little  hunt.  The  naturalist  saw  a 
band  of  elk  emerge  from  the  timber  and  walk  towards 
the  doctor,  who  hid  in  a  ravine  at  the  foot  of  a  little 
ridge.  A  number  of  cows  and  calves  were  at  the 
head  of  the  band,  and  as  they  came  down  the  ridge 
they  smelled  powder  and  turned  down  the  side  of  the 


THE  LAST  HUNT.  291 

mountain  into  the  woods.  Following  the  cows  and 
calves  came  two  fine  bulls.  They  walked  on  down  the 
ridge,  not  suspecting  danger,  in  plain  sight  of  Dyche. 
The  latter  was  just  wondering  what  had  become  of 
the  doctor,  when  he  saw  a  puff  of  smoke  and  heard 
the  gun  crack.  One  of  the  elks  began  running  in  a 
circle  and  soon  fell  to  the  ground,  while  the  other 
disappeared  in  the  timber.  It  was  a  finely  propor- 
tioned animal  with  a  perfect  set  of  horns  and  a  good 
growth  of  hair. 

Snow  had  been  falling  now  for  twenty-four  hours, 
and  it  was  possible  to  hunt  without  becoming  confused 
by  old  trails.  Dyche  started  out  earlj^  next  morn- 
ing to  see  what  was  in  the  country.  He  found  a  bear- 
track  and  followed  it,  even  though  he  knew  that  he 
would  have  little  chance  of  getting  it.  The  bear 
visited  no  less  than  four  carcasses  of  elk  lying  in 
the  snow,  all  cows  and  calves.  These  had  been  killed 
by  hunters  and  left  lying  just  where  they  fell,  not  a 
pound  of  flesh  being  taken  or  an  inch  of  skin  cut  off. 
The  bear-hunters  go  through  the  country  killing  deer 
and  elk,  leaving  the  carcasses  for  bait.  If  a  bear 
visits  one  of  them  a  week  or  a  month  later,  the  hunt- 
ers set  their  traps. 

The  camp  of  some  bear-hunters  was  found,  and 
Dyche  went  with  one  of  them  to  look  at  the  remains 
of  a  buU  elk.  The  specimen  was  spoiled  and  useless 
to  the  naturalist  except  the  leg  bones  and  skull. 
During  that  day  Dyche  saw  eleven  bodies  of  elk 
which  had  been  slain  for  bear-bait.  These  two  bear- 
hunters  were  novices  and  appeared  to  be  out  for  the 
fun  of  the  trip  more  than  anything  else.     They  gave 


292  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

the  naturalist  a  cordial  invitation  to  spend  the  night 
with  them.  As  he  was  a  long  way  from  his  own 
camp  and  night  was  coming  on,  it  took  but  little 
pressing  to  induce  him  to  accept. 

The  men  gave  their  names  as  Henry  Maybe  and 
Henry  Geisler  and  they  had  travelled  many  miles  in 
following  bear.  They  were  ready  to  testify  that  a 
bear  can  travel  twenty  or  thirty  miles  a  day  without 
stopping  to  rest  or  eat.  After  the  usual  stories  of 
hunting  and  adventure  in  the  mountains  the  camp 
became  silent.  Dyche  had  barely  fallen  asleep 
when  he  was  aroused  by  the  voice  of  one  of  his  com- 
panions. 

"  Henry,  what  is  that?"  came  the  startled  whisper 
from  one  roll  of  blankets. 

"  That  sounds  just  like  that  bear  cub  we  saw  at 
Meeker,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Let's  get  up.     Maybe  we  can  catch  it." 

Hastily  scrambling  from  their  blankets,  the  two 
went  into  the  woods  in  the  direction  of  the  noise. 
Dyche  had  lost  no  bear  cub  and  remained  in  bis  blank- 
ets. The  men  returned ,  wondering  what  it  c  ould  have 
been.  They  had  barely  become  settled  in  their  blank- 
ets when  the  sound  came  again.  They  hastened  to 
the  woods  with  the  same  result.  They  now  deter- 
mined to  exercise  a  little  ingenuity  and  surprise  the 
animal.  One  man  remained  in  the  woods  while  the 
other  returned  to  the  tent.  Soon  the  sound  was  heard 
again  and  the  watcher  called  out : 

"  Hurry  up,  Henry.     Here  it  is.     It's  up  in  a  tree." 

Henry  took  his  gun  and  a  lantern  and  for  a  while 
all  was  quiet.     After  an  absence  of  several  minutes 


THE  LAST  HUNT.  293 

they  returned  to  camp,  using  strange  words  about 
"that  consamed  little  owl." 

Returning  to  Camp  Grand  View  next  day,  Dyche 
found  that  everyone  had  reached  the  conclusion  that 
it  would  be  well  to  leave  the  place,  and  several  days 
were  spent  in  travelling  and  searching  for  a  more 
suitable  spot.  Darkness  compelled  them  to  stop  one 
night  on  a  high  point  on  the  mountains,  where  the 
wind  blew  a  perfect  gale.  The  judge  gave  it  the 
name  of  Camp  Windy  Point.  A  few  days  were 
spent  here,  and  Jim  made  a  short  expedition  and  re- 
ported that  he  had  fired  at  a  large  bull  elk  but  had 
not  drawn  blood.  Next  day  the  doctor  and  the  judge 
went  out  on  horseback  while  Jim  and  Dyche  went 
together  on  foot.  Jim  showed  where  he  had  seen  the 
elk,  but  there  were  no  signs  of  a  wounded  animal. 
The  trail  was  followed  some  distance  and  then  it  was 
decided  to  return  to  camp. 

After  travelling  awhile  Dyche  sat  down  for  a  short 
rest  at  the  edge  of  a  grassy  park.  The  bugle-call  of 
an  elk  off  in  the  woods  aroused  him,  and  soon  he 
heard  a  response  in  an  opposite  direction.  This 
bugle-call  of  the  elk  is  perhaps  the  most  peculiar 
sound  emitted  by  an  animal.  The  elk  starts  off  with 
a  noise  similar  to  that  of  the  squeaking  of  an  old  barn 
door,  and  this  harsh  noise  is  followed  by  a  bawl  as  of 
a  cow.  This  develops  into  the  bray  of  a  mule  and 
winds  up  with  a  peculiar,  clear  bugle  note  or  call, 
which  rings  full  and  free  through  the  woods.  It  is 
a  sound  which  never  fails  to  excite  hunters  and  set 
their  blood  to  bounding.  The  naturalist  and  Jim 
were  just  preparing  to  begin  a  stalk  when  an  elk 


294  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

emerged  from  the  woods  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
park.  It  was  an  old  cow,  and  soon  others  appeared. 
They  trooped,  out  of  the  woods  until  fully  sixty  were 
in  sight.  Then  from  another  point,  off  to  one  side, 
thirty  more  came  out.  All  these  were  cows  and 
calves,  with  a  very  few  young  bulls.  Now  the  old 
bulls  began  to  make  their  appearance,  the  last  to  come 
into  the  park.  This  immense  band  was  counted, 
and  it  was  found  that  there  were  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five. 

The  wind  was  blowing  directly  from  the  hunters 
towards  the  band,  and  a  consultation  showed  a  diver- 
sity of  opinion  as  to  the  proper  mode  of  procedure. 
Jim  was  a  good  woodsman,  but  the  sight  of  so  many 
elk  at  one  time  evidently  "  rattled "  him  and  gave 
him  an  attack  of  elk  fever.  He  strongly  opposed 
Dyche*s  plans  for  a  long  stalk  which  would  take 
them  around  and  ahead  of  the  band  where  they  could 
lie  in  ambush  and  select  the  finest  of  the  lot,  but  in- 
sisted on  crawling  under  poor  cover  directly  down 
towards  them.  He  was  afraid  to  let  them  get  out  of 
his  sight  lest  they  should  go  off  and  never  be  seen 
again.  Much  against  his  will,  Dyche  consented  to 
try  Jim's  plan,  for  he  saw  that  any  other  course 
might  cause  the  excited  hunter  to  make  an  untimely 
movement  which  would  spoil  the  entire  stalk. 

Jim's  plan  was  followed,  and  then  it  was  found 
that  they  had  to  retrace  their  steps  and  begin  over 
again.  Three  times  was  this  done  before  Jim  became 
convinced  that  Dyche 's  idea  was  the  better.  But  now 
it  was  almost  too  late,  for  the  band  had  fed  near  the 
spot  where  the  naturalist  desired  to  hide.     The  ani- 


THE  LAST  HUNT.  295 

mals  were  now  between  two  ridges,  moving  slowly. 
If  the  hunters  could  get  ahead  of  the  band  they  could 
examine  the  elk  at  their  leisure  and  see  if  the  one 
they  wanted  was  in  the  herd.  If  there  was  a  bull 
larger  than  the  one  killed  by  Dyche,  he  wanted  it  to 
lead  the  World's  ¥^\r  group.  If  not,  the  naturalist 
preferred  that  none  be  killed,  for  he  had  a  sufficient 
number  of  specimens  of  aU  other  kinds. 

After  losing  much  time  in  following  out  Jim's 
vagaries  they  reached  the  spot  where  Dyche  desired  to 
go  at  the  beginning  of  the  stalk,  but  they  had  been 
so  long  on  the  way  that  the  animals  were  there 
ahead  of  them  and  were  passing  into  the  ravine. 
As  the  hunters  crawled  through  the  underbrush, 
their  ears  were  assailed  by  a  queer  combination  of 
grunting  and  squealing,  made  by  the  elk  as  they 
fed  along  through  the  park.  Now  and  then  a  bull 
raised  his  head  and  gave  his  bugle-call,  and  the 
response  came  from  the  far  side  of  the  band. 
The  hunters  at  last  reached  a  point  about  a  hundred 
yards  from  the  game,  but  the  trees  and  brush  were  so 
intertwined  that  it  was  impossible  to  see  beyond 
them.  Occasionally  a  head  or  a  portion  of  the  body 
of  an  elk  came  into  view,  but  it  was  evident  that 
the  men  must  get  closer  if  they  wished  to  see  the 
entire  band.  Slipping  off  their  shoes  and  jackets  they 
crawled  slowly  forwards  for  about  fifteen  yards.  Sud- 
denly Jim  jumped  to  the  top  of  a  log  which  barred 
the  way  and  was  in  fuU  view  of  the  band  of  elk. 

About  fifty  cows  and  calves  were  feeding  directly 

towards  him,  and  as  he  appeared  on  the  log  the 

animals  started  on  the  run,  frightening  the  others  as 
20 


296  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

they  went  through  the  park  at  full  speed.  Jim  began 
shooting  at  the  fleeing  elk  as  fast  as  he  could  work 
the  lever  of  his  Marlin.  Dyche  could  see  nothing, 
and  in  trying  to  get  around  the  log  where  the  way 
would  be  clear,  he  lost  considerable  time.  Jim  went 
on  the  run  through  the  woods  and  Dyche  followed, 
reaching  the  edge  of  the  timber  just  in  time  to  see 
the  band  disappearing  at  the  lower  end  of  the  ra- 
vine. Jim  was  running  at  full  speed  down  the  ridge 
to  the  right  of  the  ravine  and  Dyche  went  on  the 
one  to  the  left.  After  the  first  alarm  the  elk  bunched 
and  were  running  together  in  a  compact  mass.  Into 
this  bunch  Jim  now  began  shooting  at  a  distance  of 
only  fifty  yards.  He  worked  his  gun  as  rapidly  as 
possible  and  poured  balls  into  the  band  like  leaden 
rain. 

Dyche  carefully  surveyed  the  band  and  singled  out 
a  bull  which  appeared  to  be  much  larger  than  any  of 
the  others.  Towards  this  animal  he  turned  his  at- 
tention, shooting  at  it  until  it  left  the  band  and  went 
into  the  woods  alone.  The  band  had  now  gone 
around  the  hill  on  which  Jim  was  standing,  and 
Dyche  heard  more  shooting  and  then  all  was  still. 

"  Prof,  why  ain't  you  shoo  tin'  ?"  shouted  the  excited 
mountaineer. 

The  naturalist  was  disgusted  and  mortified  and  jet 
amused  at  the  way  the  hunt  had  ended.  Only  one 
elk  was  needed  and  that  one  must  be  a  monster,  but 
Jim  had  been  indiscriminately  slaughtering  the  ani- 
mals at  short  range,  when  there  was  no  possible  way 
of  utilising  the  flesh. 

Dyche  now  hurried  across  to  the  place  where  Jim 


THE  LAST  HUNT.  297 

had  been  standing  and  saw  the  latter  about  four  hun- 
dred yards  farther  on  and  the  elk  in  a  bunch  about 
seventy-five  yards  below  him.  Jim  had  used  his  last 
cartridge  and  was  watching  the  band,  which  ran 
about  a  hundred  yards  farther  and  then  stopped  on 
a  knoll.  Another  run  took  them  to  the  woods  and 
then  they  were  out  of  sight.  Jim  went  back  after 
the  shoes  and  jackets  and  told  the  naturalist  of  the 
number  of  big  ones  he  had  killed.  It  was  decided 
to  go  back  to  camp,  as  it  was  almost  dark,  and  re- 
turn in  the  morning  for  the  dead  elk. 

The  evening  was  spent  by  Jim  and  Dyche  in  tell- 
ing over  and  over  again  what  they  had  done  and 
what  a  lot  of  fine  bulls  would  be  found  dead.  Early 
in  the  morning  the  whole  party  went  to  the  field  of 
action,  expecting  to  find  at  least  a  dozen  dead  elk. 
A  very  careful  search  revealed  the  fact  that  not  an 
elk  had  been  killed,  while  the  only  evidence  that  any 
had  been  wounded  was  an  occasional  drop  of  blood, 
which  might  have  come  from  a  sore  foot  or  an  injured 
leg.  The  trail  of  the  fleeing  elk  was  followed  four 
or  five  miles,  and  then  Jim  was  compelled  to  acknowl- 
edge that  he  had  missed  the  whole  herd.  On  the 
return  the  judge  rounded  up  a  fine  bull  which  had 
straggled  from  the  band,  evidently  the  one  at  which 
Dyche  had  shot,  and  took  it  into  camp,  thus  ending 
their  great  elk-hunt  in  the  Rockies. 

Every  member  of  the  party  was  now  satisfied  with 
the  result  of  the  trip  to  the  mountains,  including  Jim, 
who,  however,  was  a  little  sore  over  his  experience 
with  the  big  band,  and  the  party  was  ready  to  return 
to  civilisation. 


298  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

"How  large  do  elk  grow?"  asked  the  doctor  as 
thej"  were  packing  the  specimens  and  commenting  on 
the  big  fellow's  size. 

"  A  full-grown  bull  sometimes  attains  the  weight 
of  a  thousand  pounds,  but  the  average  is  not  over  half 
of  that.  Cows  weigh  from  three  hundred  to  five 
hundred  pounds  and  have  but  one  calf,  which  is 
spotted  like  a  fawn." 

"  If  the  skin  was  as  good  as  the  meat, "  said  Jim 
as  he  helped  himself  to  another  rib,  "  it  would  make 
mighty  good  leather,  but  it's  the  poorest  part  of  the 
animal." 

"  That's  a  fact,"  replied  Dyche ;  "  the  skin  is  almost 
worthless  and  appears  to  be  rotten  when  tanned." 

"Where  is  the  best  place  to  find  elk  now?"  asked 
the  judge. 

"  The  range  is  now  restricted  to  certain  favoured 
spots  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  but  they  formerly 
ranged  from  Northern  Mexico  to  British  Columbia. 
A  few  are  found  in  Minnesota.  They  live  principally 
on  grass  and  twigs  and  sometimes  bits  of  the  bark 
of  such  trees  as  quaking  asps.  The  European  cousin 
of  the  elk  is  undoubtedly  the  red  deer,  or  stag.  Elk 
will  average  much  larger  than  the  stag,  but  they  are 
similar  in  general  appearance  and  when  placed  in 
parks  together  will  breed  and  their  offspring  will  also 
breed." 

"  What  a  fine  team  a  pair  of  them  would  make !" 
said  Jim.  "  They  would  take  a  fellow  sailing  over 
the  country  in  great  style. " 

•    "  I've  seen  that  done,"  said  the  judge.     "  Last  year 
it  was  a  common  sight  in  Denver.     A.  man  had  a 


THE  LAST  HUNT.  299 

pair  of  five-year-old  bulls  hitched  to  a  cart  and  drove 
through  the  streets." 

"Yes,"  said  Dyche,  "they  are  easily  broken  to 
harness  and  seem  to  take  kindly  to  it,  but  when  thej^ 
take  a  notion  to  run  away  there  is  sure  to  be  a  gen- 
eral smash-up." 

The  first  camp  on  the  return  to  Denver  was  made 
at  Trapper's  Lake,  and  while  hunting  near  the 
water  Dyche  saw  hundreds  of  trout  disporting 
themselves.  He  threw  stones  at  them  until  his 
arm  was  tired,  and  then  went  to  camp  with  his 
story  and  was  laughed  at  for  his  pains.  The 
judge  looked  at  the  professor  quizzically,  and  the 
doctor  said  he  had  been  pretty  good  at  fish-stories 
himself  in  his  day.  Dyche  took  the  chaffing  and  also 
the  judge's  fishing-rod  and  returned  to  the  lake,  the 
doctor  following  out  of  curiosity.  The  water  was 
fairly  alive  with  the  speckled  mountain  trout,  and 
the  lines  could  hardly  be  thrown  in  fast  enough  to 
satisfy  the  fish.  At  the  end  of  an  hour  of  this  sport 
they  returned  to  camp  with  seventy  fine  fish  in  a  sack. 
They  weighed  just  fifty  pounds,  and  the  judge,  who 
was  admittedly  the  best  fisherman  in  the  State,  said 
it  was  the  finest  catch  he  had  ever  seen. 

The  month  had  been  most  pleasantly  spent  by  the 
whole  party,  and  the  camp-fires  of  a  naturalist  were 
things  of  the  past.  At  Denver  the  naturalist  parted 
from  his  friends,  promising  that  at  some  future  day 
they  would  meet  and  take  another  and  longer  hunt 
in  the  mountains. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Results  of  the  Camp-Fires — The  Specimens  Obtained, 

HE  camp-fires  are  dead  and  the  ashes  cold. 
Hundreds  of  whitened  spots  surrounded 
by  burned  and  blackened  wood  and 
by  bleaching  bones  may  be  found  from 
the  sand-hills  of  No-Man's  Land  and  the  bleak 
prairies  of  western  Kansas  to  the  marshes,  bogs, 
and  fens  of  Manitoba;  from  the  pine-covered  ridges 
at  the  head  of  the  Pecos  in  New  Mexico  to  the  deep 
forests  on  Kettle  River  in  British  Columbia,  where 
silence  reigns  supreme.  Mountain  and  plain,  swamp 
and  lava-bed  have  been  called  upon  to  contribute  their 
quota,  and  the  work  of  the  naturalist  is  now  changed 
from  active  field  operations  to  the  preparation  of 
specimens  in  the  laboratory. 

It  has  not  been  my  purpose  to  make  a  book  of 
thrilling  adventures,  full  of  exciting  hunting-stories, 
but  rather  to  set  forth  clearly  and  truthfully  those 
incidents  which  impart  a  peculiar  charm  to  the  life 
of  hunters  who  go  to  the  woods  with  the  true 
sportsman's  instinct  and  look  for  game  to  add 
something  to  the  knowledge  of  the  world.  That  the 
naturalist  had  many  more  adventures  than  those  re- 
corded in  these  pages  can  readily  be  seen  by  a  walk 
through  the  storerooms  of  the  Kansas  University. 

300 


RESULTS  OF  THE  CAMP-FIRES.  301 

Here,  piled  in  apparent  confusion,  but  really  classified 
with  the  greatest  care  and  labelled  so  definitely  that 
no  chance  of  error  is  left,  are  to  be  found  the  thou- 
sands of  specimens  which  have  been  obtained  not  only 
by  his  own  riile,  but  also  by  exchange  and  by  pur- 
chase from  those  who  spend  their  lives  in  the  wild- 
wood  haunts  of  the  fauna  of  the  continent.  Trap- 
pers, hunters,  traders,  prospectors,  and  Indians  have 
been  drawn  upon  for  specimens,  as  well  as  for  inci- 
dents showing  the  peculiarities  of  each  species,  and 
the  result  is  that  many  specimens  of  rare,  and  in 
some  instances  extinct,  animals  have  been  preserved 
for  the  study  of  future  generations. 

In  connection  with  this  subject  it  should  be  remem- 
bered that  a  complete  series  must  embrace  a  whole 
family  in  all  stages  of  development,  in  order  to  show 
all  the  characteristics  and  peculiarities  of  the  animal. 
Not  alone  are  the  old  male  and  female  specimens  neces- 
sary, but  the  calves  and  young  of  different  stages 
must  be  shown  to  give  a  good  idea  of  the  species. 
Often  it  has  been  necessary  to  collect  specimens 
from  widely  separated  localities  in  order  to  exhibit 
the  peculiar  differences  brought  about  by  environ- 
ment. 

While  the  collection  now  stored  at  the  university 
may  appear  large  and  beyond  the  requirements  of 
science,  it  must  be  remembered  that  in  many  in- 
stances these  specimens  will  probably,  in  the  near 
future,  be  the  only  representatives  of  those  rare  spe- 
cies which  are  rapidly  becoming  extinct.  Eight  years 
ago  only  four  specimens  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  goat 
were  to  be  found  in  all  the  museums  of  the  world. 


303  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

These  were  in  such  condition  that  they  told  nothing 
either  of  the  appearance  or  the  peculiarities  or  habits 
of  the  animal  as  he  is  seen  in  his  mountain  home. 
So  much  hardship  attends  the  hunting  of  this  most 
rare  of  all  the  North  American  fauna  that  it  is  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  that  a  single  specimen  can  be 
obtained,  and  then  the  additional  labour  of  getting 
the  game  down  the  almost  inaccessible  mountain 
which  the  animal  has  chosen  for  its  habitat  makes 
the  securing  of  a  single  perfect  example  an  event 
worthy  of  being  chronicled  in  the  scientific  journals 
of  the  world.  The  thirty-four  complete  specimens  of 
this  animal  secured  by  Professor  Dyche  will  go  far  to- 
wards aiding  the  future  naturalists  in  their  studies. 

While  all  the  expeditions  of  the  naturalist  were  for 
the  purpose  of  collecting  examples  of  the  larger 
mammals  of  the  continent,  he  never  lost  sight  of  the 
fact  that  he  visited  places  where  he  was  likely  to 
find  rare  forms  of  smaller  mammals  and  birds,  and 
he  secured  thousands  of  them  which,  with  his  larger 
specimens,  form  a  collection  that  for  excellence  can- 
not be  equalled  in  the  whole  world. 

A  list  must  of  necessity  be  incomplete,  but  a  par- 
tial enumeration  of  the  rarest  forms  will  give  the 
reader  some  idea  of  the  wonderful  work  that  has  been 
accomplished  during  these  expeditions.  The  Ameri- 
can bison  is  now  practically  extinct  as  a  wild  animal. 
The  few  remaining  herds  are  so  hedged  about  by  law 
that  they  are  practically  domesticated.  Fourteen 
complete  specimens  of  these  were  secured  from  the 
last  survivors  of  the  wild  herd.  Of  antelope  he  has 
thirty-five  specimens,  of  bear  fourteen,  mountain  lions 


THE  SPECIMENS  OBTAINED.  303 

eleven,  elk  nineteen,  Rocky  Mountain  sheep  forty- 
five.  Rocky  Mountain  goats  thirty-four,  moose  forty, 
deer  sixty,  timber- wolves  ten,  coyotes  twenty-four, 
foxes  twenty-five,  including  some  of  the  rarest  silver 
and  cross  varieties,  lynxes  ten,  caribou  seven,  and  of 
otter,  beaver,  wolverine,  fisher,  badgers,  woodchuck, 
raccoons,  and  smaller  animals  several  hundreds. 

While  the  money  value  of  the  collection  has  never 
entered  into  the  consideration  of  the  professor,  who, 
with  the  true  instincts  of  a  naturalist,  has  been  wholly 
engrossed  v/ith  the  collection  of  the  specimens,  it 
would  now  be  impossible  to  duplicate  the  collection 
for  $100,000,  and  as  the  animals  become  scarce  and 
rare  this  value  will  increase  until  within  a  very  few 
years  it  will  be  of  incalculable  worth.  Realising 
that  future  generations  may  look  to  this  collection 
for  the  study  of  rare  species,  the  professor  aims  to  have 
in  addition  to  the  mounted  groups,  which  will  stand 
as  silent  educators  to  the  masses,  a  student's  series 
which  will  be  of  use  to  the  future  naturalist  who  may 
have  no  other  means  of  examining  an  extinct  species. 

Nor  is  the  work  complete  as  the  collection  now 
stands.  The  material  on  hand  is  to  be  increased  by 
the  results  of  other  expeditions  now  in  contempla- 
tion, and  these  specimens  are  to  be  the  basis  of  works 
on  the  natural  history  of  North  America,  the  first 
of  which,  on  ruminants,  is  now  in  course  of  prep- 
aration. 

Other  camp-fires  will  glow  in  the  deepest  wilds  of 
British-Columbian  mountains  while  the  naturalist 
wili  seek  rare  and  almost  extinct  species  of  that  re- 
gion.    Far-off  Alaska  and  even  Greenland  will  be 


304  CAMP-FIRES  OF  A  NATURALIST. 

called  upon  to  give  up  tributes  of  musk-  ox  and  polar 
bear,  while  Mexico  and  the  Gulf  coast  will  be  drawn 
upon  for  phases  of  animal  life  peculiar  to  those  sec- 
tions. 

The  ashes  of  the  camp-fires  from  the  Sierra  Madre 
and  Sangre  del  Christo  to  the  Cascade  ranges,  from 
the  Columbia  Biver  to  the  Lake  of  the  Woods,  now 
mark  the  spots  where  many  happy  hours  were  spent 
while  communing  with  Nature  in  her  most  secret 
haunts.  The  sparks  are  extinct  and  many  rains  and 
snows  have  beaten  the  white  ash  into  the  cold  earth, 
yet  there  remain  the  bright  memories  which  he  alone 
can  know  who  goes  to  the  deep  solitudes  and  sleeps 
beneath  the  singing  pines. 

"We  have  taken  you  through  the  mountain,  prairie 
land,  and  swamp ;  we  have  shown  you  the  discomforts 
as  well  as  tlie  pleasures  of  the  life  of  a  naturalist ; 
we  have  given  you  a  hunter's  fare  of  venison  and 
camp  bread,  washed  down  with  black  coffee  made 
in  a  tin  cup ;  we  have  laid-  you  to  rest  on  a  bed  of 
spruce  boughs  and  sung  you  to  sleep  with  the  sigh- 
ing of  the  wind  as  it  plays  through  the  tree-tops  and 
rustles  among  the  pine-needles.  If  we  have  given 
you  one  desire  for  that  free  life  in  the  woods  and 
mountains  or  added  one  iota  to  your  pleasure,  we  are 
repaid. 


THE  END. 


D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


r\U TINGS    AT    ODD    TIMES.       By  Charles  C. 
V^    Abbott,  author  of  "  Days  out  of  Doors  "  and  "  A  Naturalist's 
Rambles  about  Home."     i6mo.     Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.25. 

*'  A  charming  little  volume,  literally  alone  with  Nature,  for  it  discusses  seasons  and 
the  fields,  birds,  etc.,  with  the  loving  freedom  of  a  naturalist  born.  Every  page  reads 
like  a  sylvan  poem;  and  for  the  lovers  of  the  beautiful  in  quiet  out-door  and  out-of- 
town  life,  this  beautifully  bound  and  attractively  printed  little  volume  will  prove  a 
companion  and  friend." — Rochester  Union  and  Advertiser. 

NA  TURALIST'S  RAMBLES  ABO  UT HOME. 
By  Charles  C.  Abbott.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"The  home  about  which  Dr.  Abbott  rambles  is  clearly  the  haunt  of  fowl  and  fish, 
of  animal  and  insect  life  ;  and  it  is  of  the  habits  and  nature  of  these  that  he  discourses 
pleasantly  in  this  book.  Summer  and  winter,  morning  and  evening,  he  has  been  in 
the  open  air  all  the  time  on  the  alert  for  some  new  revelation  of  instinct,  or  feeling, 
or  character  on  the  part  of  his  neighbor  creatures.  Most  that  he  sees  and  hears  he 
reports  agreeably  to  us,  as  it  was  no  doubt  delightful  to  himself.  Books  like  this, 
which  are  free  from  all  the  technicalities  of  science,  but  yet  lack  little  that  has  scien- 
tific value,  are  well  suited  to  the  reading  of  the  young.  Their  atmosphere  is  a  healthy 
one  for  boys  in  particular  to  breathe." — Boston  Transcript. 


A 


D 


AYS  OUT  OE  DOORS.     By  Charles  C.  Abbott. 
i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"'Days  out  of  Doors'  is  a  series  of  sketches  of  animal  life  by  Charles  C.  Abbott, 
a  naturalist  whose  graceful  writings  have  entertained  and  instructed  the  public  before 
now.  The  essays  and  narratives  in  this  book  are  grouped  in  twelve  chapters,  named 
after  the  months  of  the  year.  Under  '  January '  the  author  talks  of  squirrels,  musk- 
rats,  water-snakes,  and  the  predatory  animals  that  withstand  the  rigor  of  winter; 
under  '  February'  of  frogs  and  herons,  crows  and  blackbirds;  under  *  March  '  of  gulls 
and  fishes  and  foxy  sparrows;  and  so  on  appropriately,  instructively,  and  divertingly 
through  the  whole  twelve." — IS^ew  York  Sun. 

y^HE  FLA  YTIME  NA  TURALIST.     By  Dr.  J.  E. 
-»        Taylor,  F.  L.  S.,  editor  of  "  Science  Gossip."     With  366  Illus- 
trations.    i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"The  work  contains  abundant  evidence  of  the  author's  knowledge  and  enthusiasm, 
and  any  boy  who  may  read  it  carefully  is  sure  to  find  something  to  attract  him.  The 
style  is  clear  and  lively,  and  there  are  many  good  illustrations." — Nature. 

'HE    ORIGIN    OF    FLORAL    STRUCTURES 

through  Insects  and  other  Agencies.  By  the  Rev.  George 
Henslow,  Professor  of  Botany,  Queen's  College.  "With  nu- 
merous Illustrations.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.75. 

"Much  has  been  written  on  the  structure  of  flowers,  and  it  might  seem  almost 
superfluous  to  attempt  to  say  anything  more  on  the  subject,  but  it  is  only  withm  the 
last  few  years  that  a  new  literature  has  sprung  up,  in  which  the  authors  have  described 
their  observations  and  given  their  interpretations  of  the  uses  of  floral  mechanisms,  more 
especially  in  connection  with  the  processes  of  fertilization." — From  Introduction. 


T 


New  York:   D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street 


T 


D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


^HE     GARDEN'S     STORY;     or.   Pleasures   and 

Trials  of  an  Amateur  Gardener.     By  George  H.  Ellw anger. 

With  Head  and  Tail  Pieces  by  Rhead.     i2mo.     Cloth,  extra, 

$1.50. 

"Mr,  Ellwanger's  instinct  rarely  errs  in  matters  of  taste.  He  writes  out  of  the 
fullness  of  experimental  knowledge,  but  his  knowledge  differs  from  that  of  many  a 
trained  cultivator  in  that  his  skill  in  garden  practice  is  guided  by  a  refined  aesthetic 
sensibility,  and  his  appreciation  of  what  is  beautiful  in  nature  is  healthy,  hearty,  and 
catholic.  His  record  of  the  garden  year,  as  we  have  said,  be^ns  with  the  earliest 
violet,  and  it  follows  the  season  through  until  the  witch-hazel  is  blossoming  on  the 
border  of  the  wintry  woods.  .  .  .  This  little  book  can  not  fail  to  give  pleasure  to  ail 
who  take  a  genuine  interest  in  rural  life."^ — New  York  Tribune. 

Y^HE    ORIGIN    OF    CULTIVATED    PLANTS. 
J-        By  Alphonse  de  Candolle.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $2.co. 

"  Though  a  fact  familiar  to  botanists,  it  is  not  generally  known  how  great  is  the 
uncertainty  as  to  the  origin  of  many  of  the  most  important  cultivated  plants.  ...  In 
endeavoring  to  unravel  the  matter,  a  knowledge  of  botany,  of  geography,  of  geology, 
of  history,  and  of  philosophy  is  required.  By  a  combination  of  testimony  derived  from 
these  sources  M.  de  Candolle  has  been  enabled  to  determine  the  botanical  origin  ai.d 
geographical  source  of  the  large  proportion  of  species  he  deals  with." — The  A  thetiffum. 

nrHE  FOLK-LORE  OF  PLANTS.    By  T.  F.  This- 
J-       ELTON  Dyer,  M.  A.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"A  handsome  and  deeply  interesting  volume.  ...  In  all  respects  the  book  is  ex- 
cellent. Its  arrangement  is  simple  and  intelligible,  its  style  bright  and  alluring. 
...  To  all  who  seek  an  introduction  to  one  of  the  most  attractive  branches  of  folk- 
lore, this  delightful  volume  may  be  warmly  commended. — Notes  and  Queries. 


F 


LOWERS  AND  THEIR  PEDIGREES.  By 
Grant  Allen,  author  of  "Vignettes  of  Nature,"  etc.  Illus- 
trated.    i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"No  writer  treats  scientific  subjects  with  so  much  ease  and  charm  of  style  as  Mr. 
Grant  Allen.  The  study  is  a  delightful  one,  and  the  book  is  fascinating  to  any  one 
who  has  either  love  for  flowers  or  curiosity  about  them." — Hartford  Cotirant. 

"  Any  one  with  even  a  smattering  of  botanical  knowledge,  and  with  either  a  heart 
or  mind,  must  be  charmed  with  this  collection  of  essays."— OzVrt^^  Evening  Journal. 

7-^HE  GEOLOGICAL  HISTORY  OF  PLANTS. 
By  Sir  J.  William  Dawson,  F.  R.  S.  Illustrated.  i2mo. 
Cloth,  $1.75- 

"  The  object  of  this  work  is  to  give,  in  a  connected  form,  a  summary  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  vegetable  kingdom  in  geological  lime.  To  the  geologist  and  botanist  the 
subject  is  one  of  importance  with  reference  to  their  special  pursuits,  and  one  on  which 
it  has  not  been  easy  to  find  any  convenient  manual  of  information.  It  is  hoped  that  its 
treatment  in  the  present  volume  will  also  be  found  sufficiendy  simple  and  popular  to  be 
attractive  to  the  general  reader." — From  the  Preface. 

New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3.  &  5  Bond  Street. 


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D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

HE  WHITE  MOUNTAINS:  A  Guide  to  their 
Interpretation.  With  a  Map  of  the  Mountains  and  Ten  Illus- 
trations. By  Rev.  JULius  H.  Ward.  i2mo.  Cloth,  gilt  top, 
$1.25. 

"  Books  descriptive  of  the  White  Mountains  are  too  few.  Any  lover  of  the  Granite 
Hills  will  gladly  welcome  this  valuable  addition  to  White  Mountain  literature,  both  for 
the  pleasure  he  himself  will  derive  from  its  perusal,  and  for  the  good  it  will  do  in  excit- 
ing an  interest  in  the  minds  of  strangers.  So  far  as  we  know,  Mr.  Ward's  is  only  the 
sixth  of  such  books.  .  .  .  If  we  were  to  attempt  to  classify  Mr.  Waid's  book,  we  should 
place  it  along  with  that  of  Starr  King,  for  its  sympathetic  treatment  of  the  subject.  It 
seems  to  us,  however,  to  occupy  a  place  not  filled  by  any  of  them,  and  to  share  the 
merits  of  all.  It  is  not  a  guide-book,  and  yet  its  systematic  airangement  and  the  in- 
telligent hints  in  its  preliminary  chapters  give  it  a  real  value  as  a  guide  to  the  tourist." 
— Rev.  Ithamar  W.  Beard,  in  Wliiie  Mountain  Echo. 

"  Mr.  Ward's  aim  has  been  something  apart  from  the  aims  of  those  who  have  gone 
before  him.  He  has  sought  to  write  neither  a  guide-book  nor  an  itinerary.  He  aimed 
not  at  mere  description,  nor  did  he  permit  his  imagination  alone  to  guide  his  pen. 
His  was  rather  a  sympathetic  and  intelligent  attempt  to  interpret  for  the  contemplative 
mind  the  great  lessons  which  these  impressive  elevations  are  capable  of  imparting  to 
men.  ,  .  .  Mr.  Ward's  sympathy  with  his  subject  is  keen  and  alive.  He  writes  as 
one  who  loves  Nature  profoundly.  The  faith  and  devotion  of  such  students  we  are 
assured  that  she  never  betrays.  His  in  truth  is  a  volume  to  carry  along  with  one  to 
the  mountain  and  to  open  and  read  anywhere.  It  is  also  a  volume  to  read  at  home. 
Kven  those  who  have  not  in  years  looked  upon  those  glorious  pageants  of  mountain- 
tops  and  moving  clouds  will  find  it  of  great  interest  and  of  much  practical  service  in  re- 
calling their  early  impressions  and  suggesting  new  ones." — New  1  ork  Tunes. 

"The  author  of 'The  White  Mountains'  is  a  mountain  enthusiast  possessing  keen 
poetic  conception,  the  hardihood  of  a  mountaineer,  and  the  especial  knowledge  of  a 
mountain  guide.  He,  therefore,  thoroughly  covers  his  chosen  field.  Little  or  nothing 
is  left  to  any  future  gleaner;  for  he  has  studied  this  region  in  all  its  summer  moods  and 
wmter  tenses,  from  North  Conway  to  the  retreat  to  Lonesome  Lake,  from  the  great 
wall  of  the  Glen  to  the  heart  of  the  wilderness,  from  little  Jackson  Valley  to  wild- 
wooded  Moosilauke,  and  the  interest  of  the  author  is  soon  commimicated  to  the  reader, 
so  that  he  feels,  if  he  has  once  visited  this  region,  that  he  must  go  again  with  this  book 
in  his  hand,  to  look  with  wider  eyes  and  finer  intelligence,  to  dream  with  poets  and 
think  with  sages." — The  New  York  Home  Journal. 

"  The  volume,  although  it  covers  familiar  ground,  is  unique  in  its  plan  and  treat- 
ment, and  opens  up  a  new  and  wonderful  source  of  erjoyment  to  the  lover  of  natural 
scenery.  It  humanizes  Nature,  or,  rather,  it  brings  the  single  individual  soul  into 
communion  with  that  vast  and  universal  soul  which  pervades  Sie  material  universe.  ' — 
Boston  Transcript. 

"  Description  of  the  perpetually  changing  mountain  view  (assisted  by  ten  good 
photogravures),  and  interpretation  of  it  after  the  manner  of  the  poet  and  the  believer 
in  the  Divine  Immanence,  are  the  rwo  offices  which  Mr.  Ward  has  so  successfully  dis- 
charged that  his  volume  will  become  a  classic  on  the  White  Mountains." — Literary 
World. 

"  It  furnishes  a  great  deal  of  practical  information  which  will  be  of  inestimable 
service."— Boston  Gazette. 

"The  book  is  replete  with  noble  thoughts  expressed  in  language  of  exquisite 
beauty." — New  York  Observer. 

"  Th*?  author  is  thoroughly  in  love  with  his  subject  and  not  less  thoroughly  acquaint- 
ed with  it." — New  York  Tribune. 


New  York :   D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


A 


D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

ROUND  AND  ABOUT  SOUTH  AMERICA: 

Twenty  Months  of  Quest  and  Query.  By  Frank  Vincent, 
author  of  "  The  Land  of  the  White  Elephant,"  etc.  With  Maps^ 
Plans,  and  54  full-page  Illustrations.  8vo,  xxiv  +  473  pages. 
Ornamental  cloth,  $5.00. 

No  former  traveler  has  made  so  comprehensive  and  thorough  a  tour  of 
Spanish  and  Portuguese  America  as  did  Mr.  Vincent.  He  visited  every 
capital,  chief  city,  and  important  seaport,  made  several  expeditions  into  the 
interior  of  Brazil  and  the  Argentine  Republic,  and  ascended  the  Parand, 
Paraguay,  Amazon,  Orinoco,  and  Magdalena  Rivers ;  he  visited  the  crater 
of  Pichinchas,  i6,uoo  feet  above  the  sea-level ;  he  explored  falls  in  the  center 
of  the  continent,  which,  though  meriting  the  title  of  "Niagara  of  South 
America,"  are  all  but  unknown  to  the  outside  world  ;  he  spent  months  in 
the  picturesque  capital  of  Rio  Janeiro  ;  he  visited  the  coffee  districts,  studied 
the  slaves,  descended  the  gold-mines,  viewed  the  greatest  rapids  of  the  globe, 
entered  the  isolated  Guianas,  and  so  on. 


/ 


N  AND  OUT  OF  CENTRAL  AMERICA;  and 
other  Sketches  and  Studies  of  Travel.  By  Frank  Vincent. 
With  Maps  and  Illustrations.     I2md.     Cloth,  $2,00. 


B 


RAZfL :  Its  Condition  and  Prospects.    By  C.  C.  Andrews, 
ex-Consul-General  to  Brazil.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  I  hope  I  may  be  able  to  present  some  facts  in  respect  to  the  present  situation  of 
Brazil  which  will  be  both  instructive  and  entertaining  to  general  readers.  My  means 
of  acquaintance  with  that  empire  are  principally  derived  from  a  residence  of  three 
years  at  Rio  de  Janeiro,  its  capital,  while  employed  in  the  service  of  the  United  States 
Government,  during  which  period  I  made  a  few  journeys  into  the  interior." — From 
the  Preface. 


c 


HINA :  Travels  and  Investigations  in  the  "  Middle 
Kingdom^  A  Study  of  its  Civilization  and  Possibilities. 
With  a  Glance  at  Japan.  By  James  Harrison  Wilson,  late 
Major-General  United  States  Volunteers  and  Brevet  Major- 
General  United  States  Army.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.75. 

"  The  book  presents  China  and  Japan  in  all  these  aspects ;  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  the  people;  the  institutions,  tendencies,  and  social  ideas;  the  government  and 
leading  men." — Boston  Traveller. 


New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


/ 


D.   APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


'DLE  DAYS  IN  PATAGONIA,  By  W.  H.  Hud- 
son, C.  M.  Z.  S.,  author  of  "  The  Naturalist  in  La  Plata,"  etc. 
With  27  Illustrations.     8vo.     Cloth,  $4.00. 

"Of  all  modem  books  of  travel  it  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  original,  and  many, 
we  are  sure,  will  also  find  it  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  suggestive." — New  York 
Tribune. 

"  Mr.  Hudson's  remarks  on  color  and  expression  of  eyes  in  man  and  animals  are  re- 
served for  a  second  chapter,  'Concerning  Eyes.'  He  is  eloquent  upon  the  pleasures 
afforded  by  '  Bird  Music  in  South  America,'  and  relates  some  romantic  tales  of  white 
men  in  captivity  to  savages.  But  it  makes  very  little  difference  what  is  the  topic  when 
Mr.  Hudson  writes.  He  calls  up  bright  images  of  things  unseen,  and  is  a  thoroughly 
agreeable  companion." — Philadelphia  Ledger 


T 


^HE  NATURALIST  IN  LA  PLATA.  By  W.  H. 
Hudson,  C.  M.  Z.  S.,  author  of  "  Idle  Days  in  Patagonia,"  and 
joint  author  of  "  Argentine  Ornithology."  With  27  Illustra- 
tions.    8vo.     Cloth,  $4.00. 

"  Mr.  Hudson  is  not  only  a  clever  naturalist,  but  he  possesses  the  rare  gift  of  in- 
teresting his  readers  in  whatever  attracts  him,  and  of  being  dissatisfied  with  mere  ob- 
servation unless  it  enables  him  to  philosophize  as  well.  With  his  lucid  accounts  of 
bird,  beast,  and  insect,  no  one  will  fail  to  be  delighted." — London  Academy. 

"A  notably  clear  and  interesting  account  of  scientific  observation  and  research. 
Mr.  Hudson  has  a  keen  eye  for  the  phenomena  with  which  the  naturalist  is  concerned, 
and  a  lucid  and  delightful  way  of  writing  about  them,  so  that  any  reader  may  be 
charmed  by  the  narrative  and  the  reflections  here  set  forth.  It  is  easy  to  follow  him, 
and  we  get  our  information  agreeably  as  he  conducts  us  over  the  desert  pampas,  and 
makes  us  acquainted  with  the  results  of  his  studies  of  animals,  insects,  and  birds.'' — • 
JVew  York  Sun. 

n^HE     NATURALIST     ON     THE    RIVER 
J-       AMAZONS.    By  Henry  Walter  Bates,  F.  R.  S.,  late  Assist- 
ant Secretary  of  the   Royal    Geographical   Society.      With   a 
Memoir  of  the  Author,  by  Edward  Clodd.     With  Map  and 
numerous  Illustrations.     8vo.     Cloth,  $5.00. 
"  This  famous  work  is  a  natural  history  q\3s%\z."— London  Literary  World. 
"  More  than  thirty  years  have  passed  since  the  first  appearance  of '  The  Naturalist 
on  the  River  Amazons,'  which  Darwin  unhesitatingly  pronounced  the  best  book  on 
natural  history  which  ever  appeared  in  England.     The  work  still  retains  its  prime  in- 
terest, and  in  rereading  it  one  can  not  but  be  impressed  by  the  way  in  which  the  pro- 
phetic theories,  disputed  and  ridiculed  at  the  time,  have  since  been  accepted.     Such  is 
the  common  experience  of  those  who  keep  a  few  paces  in  advance  of  their  generation. 
Bates  was  a  'bom'  naturalist." — Philadelphia  Ledger, 

"No  man  v/as  better  prepared  or  gave  himself  up  more  thoroughly  to  the  task  of 
studying  an  almost  unknown  fauna,  or  showed  a  zeal  more  indefatigable  in  prosecuting 
his  researches,  than  Bates.  As  a  collector  alone  his  reputation  would  be  second  to 
none,  but  there  is  a  great  deal  more  than  sheer  industry'  to  be  cited.  The  naturalist  of 
the  Amazons  is,  par  excellence,  possessed  of  a  happy  literary  style.  He  is  always  clear 
and  distinct.  He  tells  of  the  wonders  of  tropical  growth  so  that  you  can  understand 
them  all." — New  York  Times. 


New  York:  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


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D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

GEORGE   H.  ELLWANGER'S   BOOKS. 

'HE  GARDEN'S  STORY;  or,  Pleasures  and  Trials 
of  an  Amateur  Gardener.  With  Head  and  Tail  Pieces  by 
Rhead.     i6ino.     Cloth,  extra,  $1,50. 

"  This  dainty  nugget  of  horticultural  lore  treats  of  the  pleasures  and  trials  of  an 
amateur  gardener.  From  the  time  when  daffodils  begin  to  peer  and  the  'secret  of  the 
year'  comes  in  to  mid-October,  Mr.  Ellwanger  provides  an  outline  of  hardy  flower- 
gardening  that  can  be  carried  on  and  worked  upon  by  amateurs.  ...  A  little  chapter 
on  *  Warm  Weathjr  Wisdom'  is  a  presentment  of  the  cream  of  English  literature. 
Nor  is  the  information  of  this  floral  calendar  confined  to  the  literary  or  theoretical 
sides.  'Plant  thickly;  it  is  easier  and  more  profitable  to  raise  flowers  than  weeds,'  is  a 
practical  direction  from  the  garden  syllabus." — Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"  One  of  the  most  charming  books  of  the  season.  .  .  .  This  little  volume,  printed 
in  excellent  taste,  is  redolent  of  garden  fragrance  and  garden  wisdom.  ...  It  is  in  no 
sense  a  text-book,  but  it  combines  a  vast  deal  of  information  with  a  great  deal  of  out- 
of-door  observation,  and  exceedingly  pleasant  and  sympathetic  writing  about  flowers 
and  plants." — Christian  Union. 

"  A  dainty,  learned,  charming,  and  delightful  book."— iV^^w  York  Sun. 


T 


HE  STORY  OE  MY  HOUSE.  With  an  Etched 
Frontispiece  by  Sidney  L.  Smith,  and  numerous  Head  and  Tail 
Pieces  by  W.  C.  Greenough.     i6mo.     Cloth,  extra,  $1.50. 

"An  essay  on  the  building  of  a  house,  with  all  its  kaleidoscopic  possibilities  in  the 
way  of  reform,  and  its  tantalizing  successes  before  the  fact,  is  always  interesting ;  and 
the  author  is  not  niggardly  in  the  good  points  he  rneans  to  secure.  It  is  but  natural  to 
follow  these  with  a  treatise  on  rugs  full  of  Orientalism  and  enthusiasm ;  on  the  literary 
den  and  the  caller,  welcome  or  otherwise ;  on  the  cabinets  of  porcelain,  the  rare  edi- 
tions on  the  shelves,  the  briefly  indicated  details  of  the  spoils  of  the  chase  in  their 
proper  place;  on  the  greenhouse,  with  its  curious  climate  and  wonderful  botany  and 
odors,  about  which  the  author  writes  with  unusual  charm  and  precision ;  on  the  dining- 
room  and  the  dinner.  .  .  .  The  book  aims  only  to  be  agreeable;  its  literary  flavor  is 
pervasive,   its  sentiment  kept  well  in  hand." — New  York  Evening  Post. 

"  When  the  really  perfect  book  of  its  class  comes  to  a  critic's  hands,  all  the  words 
he  has  used  to  describe  fairly  satisfactory  ones  are  inadequate  for  his  new  purpose,  and 
he  feels  inclined,  as  in  this  case,  to  stand  aside  and  let  the  book  speak  for  itself.  In  its 
own  way,  it  would  be  hardly  possible  for  this  daintily  printed  volume  to  do  better." — 
Art  A mateur. 


I 


W  GOLD  AND   SILVER.       With   Illustrations  by 

W.  Hamilton  Gibson,  A.  B.  Wenzell,  and  W.  C.  Greenough. 

i6mo.     Cloth,  $2.00.     Also,  limited  Edition  de  luxe,  on  Japanese 

vellum,  $5.00. 

Contents  :  The  Golden  Rug  of  Kermanshah  ;  Warders  of  the  Woods ; 
A  Shadow  upon  the  Pool ;  The  Silver  Fox  of  Hunt's  Hollow. 

"  After  spending  a  half-hour  with  '  In  Gold  and  Silver,'  one  recalls  the  old  saying, 
•  Precious  things  come  in  small  parcels.'  " — Christian  Intelligencer. 

"  One  of  the  handsomest  gift-books  of  the  ytar."— Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"  The  whole  book  is  eminently  interesting,  and  emphatically  deserving  of  the  very 
handsome  and  artistic  setting  it  has  received." — New  York  Tribune.  .,^^ 

New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  sSeet. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED   FOR   FAILURE  TO   RETURN 
THIS   BOOK  ON   THE  DATE  DUE.   THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY    AND    TO    $1.00    ON    THE    SEVENTH     DAY 
OVERDUE. 

FtB  16  , 

JUN    3    1942 

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